






























COPY, 

lasa. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 


Chap..__ . Copyright No. 

Shelf.. — 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 






A FIGHT FOR 


A THRONE. 


BY 

JOSIAH TURNER NEWCOMB. 



F. TENNYSON NEELY, 

PUBLISHER, 


LONDON, 


NEW YORK. 



-y-t-'s 





Copyright, 1898, 

by 

F. TeNjSTYSON InEKLY, 
in 

United States 
and 

Great Britain. 

All Rights Reserved. 

/l/wvv 



o 


TO MY DAUGHTER 

MARY 

who, sitting beside me at my study table, making" almost real ” writing 
with a " truly ” pen, inspired many of its gentler pages, 

THIS LITTLE VOLUME IS 

AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED. 


% 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER I. page 

Wreck, a Bit of Color and the Tide 7 

CHAPTER II. 

The House on the Dunes 17 

CHAPTER III. 

A Page or Two of History 28 

CHAPTER IV. 

A Question of Homes 38 

CHAPTER V. 

A Visitor and a Story 50 

CHAPTER VI. 

Stephen Kenwood’s Inheritance 61 

CHAPTER VII. 

The Matter of Reparation 71 

CHAPTER VIII. 

The Departure 82 

CHAPTER IX. 

The Heart of a Princess 90 

CHAPTER X. 

A Night and a Day at Montevideo 100 

CHAPTER XI. 

Captives Ill 


IV 


CONTENTS, 


CHAPTER XII. page 

An Orator and the Result of his Oration 121 

CHAPTER XIII. 

The Only Chance 132 

CHAPTER XIV. 

The Evil of the Use of Stimulants by a Native Guard. 142 
CHAPTER XV. 

A Little Coquette ... 152 

CHAPTER XVI. 

The Plan 159 

CHAPTER XVII. 

At the Palace and the Bridge 164 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

The Goddess of Yharja 173 

CHAPTER XIX. 

The Death of the King 182 

CHAPTER XX. 

An International Incident 188 

CHAPTER XXI. 

Until the End of All 201 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE 


CHAPTER I. 

A WRECK, A BIT OF COLOR, AND THE TIDE. 

Stephen Kenwood sent the prow of his boat 
hard upon the slanting sand of Water Island, and 
leaping quickly ashore, drew the light craft high 
and dry. The waters of Great South Bay lapped 
lazily along the sand, while across the dunes, 
beyond a stunted growth of green, the restless 
ocean reared its ceaseless breakers and dashed 
them upon the whitened beach. Kenwood 
made fast to a piece of heavy driftwood now 
buried deep in the sand ; then, with his easel, 
chair, and umbrella tucked under his arm, he 
hurried across the dunes. When he reached the 
wide beach he turned to the eastward, and on 
the firmer sand, quickened his step. Occa- 
sionally he paused, and standing upon some 
natural eminence, peered eagerly before him 
along the shore. At first he seemed to meet with 
disappointment, but presently the sealine curved 
sharply, revealing a longer stretch of beach, and 


8 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


in the distance, the object of his search, the 
wreck of a huge iron steamer lying, now a mis- 
shapen mass, almost within a biscuit toss of the 
shore. He wished to catch and transfer to his 
canvas the spirit, while it was upon him, of 
this huge thing of the sea, at rest after storm 
and disaster. 

j Soon he reached a suitable position, and 
pitching his easel, fell rapidly to his work. For 
an hour he toiled on, not pausing; then he left 
his easel, and going back toward the interior, 
just within the line of stunted growth which 
skirted the beach, examined the scene in its 
larger view. The abandoned vessel lay almost 
upon even keel, though deep in the sand, her 
side turned toward the shore, the stern nearer. 
The stretch of water between the nearer part of the 
wreck and the shore was visibly widening as the 
tide advanced. At low tide it might be crossed 
dry shod by means of a pathway of stones and 
bowlders which some thoughtful visitor, with 
infinite pains, had placed there. The pathway or 
bridge led to the foot of a rough ladder which 
made a way up the rusty, battered side of the 
vessel to the broken bulwarks and the deck. 

When he had finished his observations Ken- 
wood would have returned to his easel and the 
sketch, but now he caught sight of a bit of color, 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


9 


moving just beyond what remained of the 
steamer’s deck house. As he caught sight of it 
it seemed to be approaching the shoreward end 
of the wreck, and in a moment it was clear that 
it constituted the ornamentation of a woman’s 
hat. In another moment Kenwood saw a trim 
figure standing at the stern of the vessel, cling- 
ing for steadiness and support to a part of the 
broken railing. She seemed to have observed 
Kenwood, and he fancied that she intended to 
address him, but instead she turned, and still 
holding to the ironwork as she proceeded, made 
her way carefully across to the place where the 
ladder stood. 

She peered with evident anxiety over the side 
to the water below. The water now covered the 
stones of the bridge to a considerable depth, and 
even a part of the ladder was submerged. As 
Kenwood watched he hesitated, hardly knowing 
whether or not to offer assistance to her; indeed 
a method of rendering it did not come readily to 
his mind. 

Meanwhile the girl was growing clearly im- 
patient and again Kenwood fancied that she was 
about to appeal to him for aid. Therefore he 
walked to the edge of the water where the stones 
began. 

“You could not possibly cross,” he shouted to 


10 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


her. The words sounded wretchedly inadequate, 
but they were the first which came to him. He 
now could see her face quite clearly. It was the 
face of a girl of twenty, dark, delicate of feature, 
and wonderfully beautiful. Her figure was tall 
and shapely, and, though slender, it gave an im- 
pression of extreme physical strength. When 
she answered her voice carried across the water 
with ['perfect clearness, though she seemed to 
speak quite without effort. Kenwood noted the 
vocal excellence with the same sense of gratifica- 
tion with which the perfection of her beauty had 
filled him. 

“I seem to be trapped here,” she said, ”1 had 
forgotten the tide. Is there any way by which 
I can come ashore?” 

“If you wait until the tide goes out — ” began 
Kenwood. 

“How long will that be?” 

“Well, a long time.” 

“How long?” she was increasingly impatient. 

Kenwood made a rapid calculation. 

“Nearly seven hours,” he said. 

The look of anxiety on the girl’s face now 
changed rapidly to one of determination. 

“I cannot wait seven hours,” she said quite 
firmly, “I cannot wait two hours.” 

She looked at Kenwood with expectant eyes. 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


11 


The determination was the woman’s, but the 
achievement was for the man. The expectant 
eyes demanded an effort. 

“It is pretty deep,” Kenwood said weakly, 
“but if you don’t mind a wetting I think I can 
fetch you.’’ 

She seemed to consider for a moment, but not 
favorably. 

“Do, please, think of something else,’’ she 
said. 

Kenwood looked up and down the beach and 
across the island to the bay, but no cheering 
object met his anxious gaze. The whole island 
seemed to be deserted. The dunes lay white 
and bare to the east and to the west. Not a per- 
son was in sight except the impatient girl on the 
wreck. There was not even a building. 

“If you cannot help me, I shall swim ashore,’’ 
called the girl, “do please hurry. It is — impor- 
tant.’’ She spoke the last word with grave 
emphasis. An idea now flashed across the con- 
sciousness of Kenwood and he welcomed it, 
although it involved an almost infinite labor. 

“I will bring my boat,’* he shouted. 

Relief and joy made her radiant. 

“Oh!” she cried, “can you?” 

“It is there on the shore of the bay,” he said. 
“I will have to drag it across the sand. It may 
take some time.” 


12 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


“And it will be bard, too; I am truly sorry, 
but do, please, hurry.* * 

It was no slight matter, light as it was, to drag 
the boat over the deep sand from shore to shore, 
but Kenwood accomplished it. The launching 
of the craft in the lea of the wreck was brought 
about at length, despite the occasional breakers 
which found their way into the half-sheltered 
place. Kenwood rowed to the ladder, which the 
girl descended, and watching a favorable oppor- 
tunity, he reached the shore with a few quick 
strokes and assisted her out upon the beach. 

During this difficult and somewhat hazardous 
manceuvering they had exchanged hardly a word; 
but when they were safely ashore, and the boat 
had been drawn up upon the beach, the girl held 
out her hand quite frankly^to Kenwood. 

“You have done me a great service,’ * she said 
simply, “and I thank you.” 

If she had been impatient, almost imperious in 
the beginning, she was bewitchingly gracious 
now, and Kenwood, because he was young and 
she was beautiful, quite forgot his sketch and 
his labor and felt himself amply rewarded. 

As she spoke her thanks the girl looked at him 
with large, serious, dark eyes. Her manner of 
speech and gesture was curiously direct and 
vigorous. 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


13 


“We will rest a minute, if you like, and then 
I will help you take your boat back,” she said, 
after Kenwood had made acknowledgment of 
her gratitude. 

He glanced at her, but she seemed to be per- 
fectly in earnest. 

“I think I can manage it without that,” he 
said, laughing. 

“Oh, but I mean it; I insist upon it.” 

“Nonsense!” 

“But I desire it; I do indeed.” 

“Very well,” said Kenwood. [He threw out 
the long rope which was attached to the bow and 
together they began by means of it to drag the 
boat toward the bay. Halfway across they 
stopped to rest, and the girl seated herself in the 
stern. He made as if to go on, with her riding 
so, but she stopped him with a gesture. He 
came and leaned upon the side of the boat near 
her. 

“This is a curious idea, your wanting to help 
drag the boat across,” he said. 

“It was so ridiculous, my getting into that 
trap,” she answered, smiling. 

“You must have been in the wreck a long 
time?” 

“I was; I was watching — ” she checked her- 
self suddenly. 


14 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE, 


There was a pause. Presently Kenwood said : 

“I can take you across, if you think your — 
your friends have gone back.” 

The girl rose, stepped out of the boat, and 
took hold of the rope. 

“Come,” she said, “let us go on.” 

The rest of the journey was made practically 
in silence. "When they reached the shore the 
girl turned suddenly upon her companion and 
spoke rapidly, almost excitedly. 

“You have done me a great service,” she said, 
“and I thank you. I cannot help knowing that it 
seems strange to you, a mystery, that you found 
me there, alone, and that only a — stranger was 
near to help me, when I needed help. But I must 
ask of you a further service ; that you do not 
seek to know why I am here, and why alone; 
that you let me go without — question. For, be- 
lieve me, it would be but a pitiful mystery, did 
you discover it.” 

The earnestness of her manner was of such a 
nature that Kenwood answered her gravel}'. 
There had been almost appeal in her fine dark 
eyes. 

“You need not fear that I shall intrude; I seek 
only to serve you,” he said. 

She gave him a quick look of gratitude, and 
turning without another word, sped away to the 
westward across the sand dunes. 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE, 


15 


Kenwood watched her retreating figure until 
it was lost to view beyond the straggling shrub- 
bery, and, after she had disappeared, he still 
stood, looking, his mind filled with the memory 
of her beauty and her grace. 

The girl walked rapidly to the westward, and 
presently reached a small, rude house or hut, 
which stood back from the ocean just within the 
line of green. She went in and passed through 
the hallway to an inner room. 

It had a single occupant, a gray-haired man, 
tall of stature though slightly stooping, and 
swarthy of skin. He straightened himself some- 
what as he heard the door open, but when he saw 
that it was only the girl he sank back into his 
chair, disappointment showing plainly upon his 
face, and in his dark eyes. 

“I have watched and watched, father/’ she 
said, as if she were pleading with him, “and I 
can see nothing. I am certain that they are not 
coming; not now, father. Pray, let us go 
home.” 

But the man was paying little heed to her. 

“They will come in good time,” he said 
cheerfully. “They will come.” 

“Father, come with me ; come home with me. ” 

He did not answer her, though he took her 
hand and stroked it gently. 


16 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE, 


“ Did you look far out, far away, over the 
bar?” he asked wistfully. 

“Yes, yes, but I could see nothing. They will 
not come; oh, I am sure they will not.” 

“They will come — in good time, ” repeated the 
man. But he went to a window and looked out 
across the waters, still wistfully. 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


17 


CHAPTER II. 

THE HOUSE ON THE DUNES. 

Kenwood failed to complete his sketch during 
the afternoon, and, as he had often done before, 
he determined to camp for the night on the 
island, using his boat, half-overturned, for a 
shelter. He prepared himself a simple meal 
from the store which he carried in his locker, 
and after he had eaten, rolled himself up in a 
blanket and fell asleep. He awoke with a start, 
and, crawling out from the shelter of his boat, 
sat upright, looking about him with the 
bewilderment which so often accompanies a sud- 
den awakening from a deep sleep. In his mind 
the impression was uppermost that he had been 
awakened by a voice, and that the voice was that 
of the girl whom he had assisted from the wreck 
in the morning. As his senses came to him out 
of the confusion he tried to rid himself of this 
impression, for it seemed to him quite improb- 
able; but it continued distinct and vivid. 
Everything in the vicinity seemed exactly as it 


IB 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


had been when he lay down in the gathering 
darkness hours^before. The moon had risen now 
and was shining brightly, making a long path- 
way of silver out over the bay; beyond, the path- 
way seemed to end suddenly in a wide lake of 
light. The breeze had gone down and the ocean 
lay almost motionless across the dunes which 
glistened in the moonlight. Not a sound dis- 
turbed the stillness of the night, yet the idea 
that he had been awakened by the girl’s voice 
continued in Kenwood’s mind, and, try as he 
might to shake it off, it still asserted itself. He 
tried to go to sleep again under his boat, but his 
senses refused to yield, and for some moments he 
lay there, every nerve alert, listening. No 
sound rewarded his vigilance, but still he could 
not sleep, and with a motion of impatience he 
rolled out again and throwing oft the blanket, 
stood up, and looked about him. There was 
nothing to see except the bare sand lots, the 
stunted shrubbery, the bay, and the ocean. With 
the idea of quieting his nerves by a turn on the 
beach Kenwood crossed over to the ocean, and 
began walking up and down in the moonlight, 
listening to the washing of the ground swell and 
watching the play of the light upon the moving 
waters. There were few stars visible; one, 
almost on the horizon, gleamed red and distinct, 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


19 


and Kenwood fell to watching it. Suddenly he 
stopped short in his tracks and examined it more 
narrowly. He now saw that it was not a star, 
but the light of a passing vessel. It gave him 
something definite upon which to fix his atten- 
tion and he welcomed it. It seemed to be grow- 
ing brighter ; the vesseljsvas coming shoreward. 

And now, while Kenwood was watching the ap- 
proaching light thus narrowly, a single rocket 
was sent up from the ship. It illuminated the 
sky for a moment, and as it died away another 
rocket soared upward as if in answer. The sec- 
ond was not from the ship; it was from the 
island, from the hut which Kenwood, who had 
noticed it before he went to sleep, had supposed 
to be vacant and deserted. 

The signals, for such they undoubtedly were, 
were understood, for they were not repeated. As 
Kenwood looked he saw that a single light now 
gleamed from a window of the hut. 

The vessel continued to approach the island, 
and soon her dark outlines were visible in the 
moonlight. There was a quick movement of 
lights on board, followed by the launching of a 
small boat. Then Kenwood heard the regular 
swing of the oars in the locks, growing more dis- 
tinct as the boat neared the shore. If he had 
fancied that he was witnessing the operations of 


20 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE, 


smugglers, the theory was at least weakened by 
the rapidity with which the boat was lowered 
and sent shoreward. It was evident that no 
cargo was being brought ashore. Soon the boat 
was so near that its occupants could be distin- 
guished. Besides the men who rowed there was 
an officer and three other persons so muffled that 
it was impossible to make out their appearance 
even as they came almost to the shore. 

As the boat approached Kenwood retreated to 
the shelter of the low shrubbery. The three 
muffled figures stepped ashore when the boat 
grounded and the officer, who did not disem- 
bark, held a low-voiced conversation with them. 

“When we want you,” said one of the men on 
the shore, “we will send up a rocket. Be sure 
that you see it, for it is bad enough to send one 
up.” 

The three men then walked briskly in the di- 
rection of the hut. Kenwood watched them 
until their figures were lost in the shadows of 
the shrubbery; then he retraced his footsteps 
across the island. It was no affair of his, he 
told himself. It would be a mistake to sup- 
pose that he was not curious, but his training 
and habit did not lead him to give his curiosity 
free rein. Moreover, he felt bound by the as- 
surance which he had given to the girl after his 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


21 


adventure in the morning. He therefore re- 
turned to his boat and threw himself down 
beneath it, determined to sleep. 

"When the three men reached the hut they 
were admitted at once, the door being opened by 
a negro, who closed it quickly, as soon as they 
had entered. The room to which he admitted 
them was small and bare of all furniture, save a 
table which stood in a corner opposite the door. 
Upon this table they threw their cloaks and then 
waited, not without impatience, expecting direc- 
tion from the negro. One of the men was an 
American, perhaps a Southerner. The two 
others were dark-skinned, with coarse, straight, 
raven hair and keen black eyes. 

The negro disappeared for a moment, but pres- 
ently he returned and with a gesture directed 
the three men to a door opening to the right. 
They advanced immediately and the American 
placed his hand upon the door knob. 

“You first. Father/’ he said, addressing the 
older of his two companions. 

The man bowed slightly in acknowledgment 
and entered, the American opening the door. 
The other dark-skinned one followed, and the 
American closed the door after them, waiting for 
a moment outside. In the inner room, when the 
two men entered, a man sat motionless in a 


22 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


heavy chair. His hair was almost white, but he 
sat tall and erect, and a slight dash of color 
showed beneath the swarthy tinge of his cheeks. 

As they entered the room the two men dropped 
upon their knees, and approached thus, with 
bowed heads. 

“Excellency ! ” they murmured. 

He allowed them to remain so for a brief space, 
and then motioned to them to rise. As the 
ceremony concluded the door opened again and 
the American entered. He bowed gravely to the 
man who sat in the chair, but he made no other 
demonstration, and none other seemed to be ex- 
pected of him. 

The man in the chair was the first to speak. 
He spoke with eagerness, his eyes bright with 
expectation. 

“Well, what news do you bring ?” he de- 
manded. 

The American turned directly toward him, and 
seemed to deliberate, choosing the strongest words 
with which to reply. When he spoke he ex- 
tended his arm with a respectful, but forceful 
gesture. 

“Peter Cajelnar,” he said impressively, “these 
men, your friends, our friends, have come here 
to tell you that everything is in readiness; all is 
prepared, and your people are ready to receive 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


23 


you. This is the news which we bear, which wo 
bear with joy.” 

The gray-haired man listened with bated 
breath, his cheeks flushing deeper with excite- 
ment. Before he could answer, however, the 
door was opened softly, and the girl entered. 
Without noticing the visitors she went across 
the room and stood beside Cajelnar’s chair, 
throwing an arm protectingly across the head- 
rest. 

A shade of annoyance crossed the face of 
Cajelnar, but he took the girl’s free hand in his, 
and rose with grace and dignity. 

“Gentlemen,” he said quietly, though there 
was a slight tremor in his voice, “gentlemen, 
this is my daughter.” 

He did not notice, though the girl did, that 
the faces of the dark-skinned visitors grew rigid 
for a moment as the announcement was made. 
The plainer fact was that they both bowed low, 
murmuring words of extravagant courtesy. They 
then advanced toward her, the elder of the two 
slightly in the rear, and the American looking on 
with cool indifference. Cajelnar whispered to 
his daughter : 

“Allow them to kiss your hand; it is the cus- 
tom,” he said. 

She did as he bade her. The first, a burly fel- 


24 A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 

low, took her hand lightly in his fingers and 
raised it not without grace to his lips. 

The elder followed and reached out his hand 
also to take hers. On the middle finger of the 
hand which he presented there was a huge ring, 
curiously wrought. The girl caught sight of it 
as she was about to give him her hand. Instead 
o 2 allowing the ceremony to be completed she 
drew back with a terrible cry. It sounded 
shrilly through the stillness of the night. 

“Murderer 1” she said, standing before her 
father as if to protect him from assault. 

Cajelnar started to his feet. 

“What is the meaning of this?’* he demanded 
of the girl. 

For answer the girl pointed to the hand of the 
elder man. 

“See/” she cried, “the ring he wears. His 
were the people who killed my mother. See, 
father, you know the ring. Oh, where is Lanier, 
he would know it in a moment. ” 

The American had moved nearer to the elder 
man. 

“You fool, ” he said in an undertone, “what 
did you wear that here for. Take it off. * ’ 

He then approached Cajelnar and the girl and 
spoke with easy respectfulness. 

“Your daughter has made a mistake,” he said, 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


25 


addressing Cajelnar. “The signet which Father 
Zanaka wears has now no significance whatever. 
'It is an heirloom. The order is long since dis- 
banded, in Yajoha as elsewhere. Surely you 
have had assurance enough that we come in good 
faith/* 

Cajelnar bowed his assent, but the girl was not 
mollified. 

“Send them away, father,” she entreated, 
clinging to him. 

He pushed her from him gently, but with de- 
termination. 

“I must talk with these gentlemen,*’ he said 
firmly, meanwhile leading her toward the door. 
“Do you leave us for a little.” 

“Ah, let me stay,” she begged. 

“No,” he answered, opening the door. 

“Father!” she cried. But he pushed her 
gently before him and across the threshold, and 
drew the door to again. She knew that it was 
useless to try to resist him. She groped her 
way to the outer door and opening it stood in 
the doorway looking out into the night. 

At this moment Kenwood, who had heard her 
cry, came rapidly across the sands. She recog- 
nized him in a moment, and closing the door 
softly behind her, she advanced to meet him. 

“You are still here!” she cried. 


26 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


“Yes, yes. It was you who cried out, was it 
not? I heard you from the shore. What is it, 
tell me?” 

“Hush!” she said, “lean tell you nothing. 
I — I was foolish to cry out as I did.” 

“But you are in danger — in trouble ” 

“My father is in danger, I can tell you no 
more; but if you would serve me, stay here and 
be ready to aid me if there is need.” 

“I wish only to serve you,” Kenwood said 
simply. “I ask no more.” 

“Then stay,” she answered. 

" "Their vigil was long and silent; at last there 
was a sound from within and presently the three 
muffled figures appeared on the threshold. The 
signal for the small boat was given, and they 
disappeared in the direction of the shore. 

They had scarcely departed when the two 
watchers saw a light approaching from out on 
the bay, and soon there was the sound of a boat 
running upon the shore. The girl gave a cry of 
relief and ran shoreward to meet them. 

“Are we in time?” demanded Lanier, stooping 
to kiss her lightly upon the forehead. 

“They have gone,” answered the girl, “but he 
is safe.” 

“Thank God!” said Lanier. 

“Yes, thank God,” said his companion. 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


27 


Kenwood, meanwhile, had watched the scene 
from a distance. Mathews, Lanier’s companion, 
caught sight of him now as he stood in the 
moonlight. 

“Good heavens, Kenwood,” he said, advanc- 
ing toward him with outstretched hand, “what 
are you doing here?” 


28 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


CHAPTER III. 

PAGE OR TWO OF HISTORY. 

The girl drew near as the two men shook 
hands. She spoke to Mathews with her usual 
directness of manner. 

“You know him?” she said. 

“Very well indeed. He is Mr. Stephen Ken- 
wood and a royal gentleman he waved his 
hand with an extravagant gesture, but his face 
showed that he spoke with sincerity. The girl 
smiled gravely. 

“He has proved himself a — royal gentleman,” 
she said. Then she turned to Kenwood and held 
out her hand to him. 

“I thank you for all that you have done for 
me,” she said softly, “and for your — considera- 
tion. These are my friends, my father’s friends, 
With them now we are quite safe.” She seemed 
to hesitate and Kenwood saw that she wished 
him to go. 

He pressed her hand and then allowed her to 
withdraw it, which she did slowly. 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


29 


“I would have given my life in your service,” 
he said solemnly, in a low tone. 

She gave him a quick glance from her wonder- 
ful eyes; it thrilled through Kenwood elec- 
trically. 

Three days later as Kenwood was reading a 
newspaper beside a window at his club he was 
startled by a quick touch upon his shoulder, and 
looking up saw Mathews standing before him. 

“I have been looking for. you, Kenwood,” he 
said after they had shaken hands. ”1 have a 
commission to execute, a most important one.” 

The memory of the day and night on Water 
Island flashed vividly before Kenwood's vision. 

“It is from — ” he said eagerly. 

Mathews smiled somewhat grimly. “Yes,” 
he said, “it is from her. She wishes — wishes 
you to understand — what must have seemed to 
you a most curious mystery.” 

“It is not necessary,” said Kenwood. 

Mathews laughed. “So I told her,” he said, 
“but she was determined. “Come, it is a good 
deal of a story; let us go where we can be quiet.” 

Mathews led the way. They found an unoc- 
cupied room and sat down beside a small table. 
While the ice melted in half-drained and neg- 
lected glasses Mathews told his story. 

“Peter Cajelnar,” he began, “that is as near 


30 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


as his name can be translated into English, 
was king of the Yajoha Island in the southern 
Pacific. He was born on the island and to the 
kingdom, for his father was king before him, but 
his origin was European. Some shipwrecked 
traveller, I suppose, reached the island, and, as 
there was then little chance of getting away, 
married there. But that is mere conjecture. 
Peter Cajelnar himself does not know how his 
father became king. His own mother was a 
native. 

“The old king, his father, was gifted with rare 
wisdom, and after awhile he built up a trade for 
the island. Presently they had a consul, and if 
the king had had his way there would have been 
a protectorate ; but somebody protested, and no 
flag waved there but the native emblem. 

“If the old king was not the original European 
at least he had advanced ideas handed down to 
him, for when Peter was but a little fellow his 
father sent him to the Continent to be educated. 
The son was nearly twenty years old when he 
came back. You did not see him?” 

“No, no; go on.” 

“Well, he is worth seeing. She — Miss Cajel- 
nar, is like him. In the later years there had 
grown up two pretty distinct factions on the 
island; those who favored the new policy of 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


31 


trade and commerce, and those who rebelled 
against the advances toward civilization which 
contact with the outside world inevitably was 
bringing. Naturally the first faction, having 
the king on its side, prospered and held sway; 
but the other was not weak, as it turned out later. 

“When the son returned he was received with 
a hearty welcome by the ascendant faction, for 
he was one of the first fruits of the spirit of 
progress, and in fact the division of sentiment 
among the people had first shown itself when the 
old king had proposed to send the son, the heir 
to the throne, abroad. 

“Since the new policy had been in vogue there 
had been a perpetual, and I suppose an inevit- 
able, conflict between the growing spirit of civili- 
zation and the ancient religion of the people. 
Not that the old king sought to overthrow it, for 
he was far too wise, and besides, he probably 
adhered to it; it was the religion of his mother. 
But some of the barbarous observances he had 
suppressed, and, with a shrewd instinct, the 
opposing faction made this their rallying ground, 
secretly charging that the leaders, if not the king 
himself, were infidels. 

“For two years after the return of Peter, the 
son, all went smoothly enough, and he grew to 
be so popular with the people that it was hoped 


32 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


that in time he might be able to unite the fac- 
tions. He was urged to marry. The old king 
now was growing very old, and his counselors 
chose a young woman, a native, a daughter of 
one of the opposing leaders, and with the king’s 
approval, proposed her as a wife and future 
queen for the son. 

“But Peter was not to be driven. For a time 
he put them off with vague excuses, and when 
they became insistent he married the daughter 
of the consul. There was much to that story, 
too, but I know little of it. It is the one subject 
in connection with the island about which none 
of them will talk. 

“He married the daughter of the consul, and 
then the trouble began for all of them. It might 
have blown over, for the old king stood by him, 
but most inopportunely the father died. 

“Despite their disappointment in his marriage, 
the progressive element rallied around the son 
after his father’s death, and he was elected king, 
by the ancient rites in council. For a space he 
ruled successfully if not undisturbed, until the 
legal time had passed and the moment came 
when he was to be crowned. 

“This was a religious, as well as a civil, cere- 
mony, and when the time came the Priest of 
Yharja flatly refused to perform his legal func- 
tions at the coronation. 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


33 


“Instantly, for the priest had many followers, 
there was a great commotion, and the people 
began, openly now, to take sides for and against 
the new king and his alien queen. 

“Still the young king was strong, and around 
him were strong and loyal men. There are 
always a hundred might-have-beens. The con- 
sul’s government might have sent him a war- 
ship, but there happened to be a war scare some- 
where, and none could be spared. Perhaps the 
trouble might have been quieted in time, if it 
had not been for what took place on the night 
after the recalcitration of the priest was made 
known. 

“The island had a sacred shrine, within a 
rude temple, built of stone. The temple and the 
shrine were very old, reaching backward far be- 
yond the memory of the oldest person on the 
island. Here, according to tradition, the God- 
dess lived concealed. Yharja was her name, and 
the prosperity and happiness of the people were 
in her care. None now living had seen her, but 
she ministered to the people through her priest. 
Tradition said that she might appear to more 
profane eyes, in fact that she had done so in 
times of great rejoicing, and once or twice when 
she wished to warn them of impending evil. 
She, according!}", was held in the deepest ven- 


34 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


eration, much to the profit of the Priest of 
Yharja, to whom the people brought frequent 
tribute. The temple contained a considerable 
treasure, taken from a ship which had stranded 
upon their shore, and devoted by the people to 
Yharja. 

“When the day broke on the morning follow- 
ing the announcement of the rebellion of the 
priest, it revealed an awful thing. The temple 
had been torn down, its walls were in ruins, and 
the shrine, the sacred shrine of Yharja, was 
broken and defamed. It was useless to point 
out to the maddened populace that a strange ship 
had been seen in the bay on the preceding 
night. The new king was accused of the crime. 
It was spread abroad that the alien queen had 
been jealous of the power and beauty of the God- 
dess Yharja. The rebellion of the priest, it was 
said, too, had urged the king to seek this terrible 
revenge. 

“The grief and anger of the people knew no 
bounds. Leaders sprang up, and urged them 
on, and they began to rush about, to burn, to 
kill. 

“They clamored around the palace, and when 
the king stood before them, they struck him 
down in their heathen rage, and over his body 
they hurried into the palace to find the hated 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


35 


queen. They thought that they had killed the 
king, but he was only stunned. . In their excite- 
ment they did not notice that he staggered to 
his feet and followed them. 

“They found the queen, a sweet-faced, gentle 
lady, and with her they found the infant daugh- 
ter. That was Julia Cajelnar. They killed the 
queen in cold blood, for she made no resistance, 
and they would have killed the child. One of 
the natives caught her up to dash her brains out 
on the stone door post, but, at the sight, the 
strength came back to Peter Cajelnar. He 
struck the ruffian down, and rescued the child 
from his murderous hands. 

“And then, nolonger as a king but as a father, 
he turned, swift-footed, and fled with the child 
in his arms. He reached the shore, and in an 
open boat, with the consul and a few of his fol- 
lowers who were loyal and alive, he escaped.’ * 

Mathews pushed the hair back from his fore- 
head with a quick gesture. 

“That is nearly all of the story,” he said as 
he pressed the electric button. “The girl whom 
you saw and aided was Julia Cajelnar. Her 
father was in the house on the island. He came 
here after his escape and has lived in retirement, 
bringing up his child. Of late he has been filled 
with a desire to return to his people, and has 


36 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


entered, most unfortunately, upon negotiations 
with some of the natives. These were the men 
who visited him on the night of your adventure. 
He went there alone to meet them. As soon as 
he had gone his daughter, whose devotion to him 
is the the ruling passion of her life, discovered 
the plan and hastened to him, hoping to prevent 
a meeting. She fears and distrusts the men. 
Before she hurried after him she sent a messenger 
to Lanier, who was the consul when the king was 
deposed, and who is her grandfather, and another 
to me, begging us to come to her assistance. Of 
course we set out at once. The help that you 
rendered to her was timely, and she insists that 
you had a right to understand why it was needed. 
I do not say that she is wrong.” 

“And where are they now?” asked Kenwood 
eagerly. 

Mathews smiled. 

“I do not know that I was instructed to tell 
you that,” he said. “Besides, Ido not know. 
We brought them away with us, and when we 
reached the railway station I left them; Lanier 
accompanied them. I had not seen them for a 
year. I may never see them again. They live a 
secluded life. When I hear from them it is 
through Lanier, who is very much my friend. 
But come, the story is told.” 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 37 

“But the island, [and the people; what became 
of them?” 

“They made the old priest king, and they have 
gone back to h their ^original state of savagery. 
That is one of poor Peter Cajelnar’s troubles. 
He blames himself for it. It is why he allows 
himself to think of returning to them. He is of 
the blood, despite the European strain. But 
his devotion is wasted. They would tear him 
to pieces.” 

There was a long pause, then Kenwood said : 

“It isn’t a well-known story, Mathews; how 
do you happen to know it so minutely?” 

“I met the consul more than two years ago; 
then I met the others, Miss Cajelnar, and the 
father.” 

Mathews rolled the corner of his glass along a 
line in the table carefully. 

“I wanted to marry Miss Cajelnar,” he said. 
“Ah.” 

“Her views were different,” he added. 


38 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE 


CHAPTER IV. 

A QUESTION OF HOMES. 

When Kenwood parted from Miss Cajelnar and 
her friends on the night of the adventure on the 
island they remained outside for a moment 
speaking rapidly, Lanier taking the lead. 

“You could not prevent the interview ?” he 
asked. 

“No, I did all that I could, but it was impos- 
sible. I could not keep them from coming, or 
pursuade my father to come away. Oh, sir,” 
she continued, addressing her grandfather, “one 
of them, the one whom they called Father, wore 
the signet ring of which you told me.” 

The ex-consul listened gravely. “What was 
he like?” he asked. “Did they call him by 
name?” 

“He was dark, very dark, and old, but he was 
tall and straight. They called him Zanaka. ” 

The old consul was silent, searching his mem- 
ory. But he shook his head. “It is so long 
ago,” he said. 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


39 


“The others were younger; one was of the 
native blood, the other an American.” 

“Montgomery,” said Lanier to Mathews. 

Mathews nodded. “He was certain to be one 
of them,” he said. 

Far out over the water the gray of coming 
dawn streaked the horizon. The night was over 
and day was about to break. 

“Come,” said Lanier, “we have no time to 
lose. Will he come, do you think?” 

“I do not know.” 

They went inside. They found Cajelnar in 
the inner room. He showed no surprise at 
Lanier’s presence. He greeted the two men 
with languid interest. 

“I expected you,” he said to Lanier. 

“Thank God, you are still here,” said the old 
consul. 

Cajelnar smiled indulgently. 

“It is almost daylight,” said Lanier briskly, 
“you must be in need of rest. Let us go home.” 

Cajelnar rose quite submissively and prepared 
to follow him. 

“I am going home — soon,” he muttered. 

Julia, who had been standing silently in the 
background, came toward him, and caught the 
words though they were spoken in a tone almost 
inaudible. The strain of the day and night of 


40 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


fearful watching, the grief and fear, the love and 
pity, had been almost too great even for her 
strength. A convulsive sob shook her frame, 
but she caught his hand and pressed it to her 
heart. 

“ Father!” she cried. 

He stroked her dark hair tenderly but made 
no answer, and then she led him out of the house 
and down to the shore of the bay, where Mathews 
had made their boat ready for departure. Cajel- 
nar took his place without a word, and his 
daughter sat down beside him, still holding his 
hand in her own. Before they had been long 
under way his head dropped upon her shoulder 
and he seemed to sleep. 

At the other end of the boat Lanier and 
Mathews spoke of the events of the night. 

“I wonder, sir,” said Mathews, “that they did 
not take him with them. He would have gone 
— I believe he would have gone.” 

“I hardly know,” answered the ex-consul 
thoughtfully. “He may not have trusted them 
fully; he is alert enough in matters relating to 
Yajoha. Then, too, they may not have been 
quite ready. ” 

“You feel quite certain that they are not act- 
ing in good faith?” 

“Absolutely. They believe that they will 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


41 


never be safe while he is alive or free. If they 
take him back, it will be to murder him, as they 
murdered my daughter, or to imprison him, 
which amounts to the same thing. We must be 
more vigilant in the future. Another meeting 
will be fatal, I am sure of it.” 

Mathews glanced toward the bow of the boat 
where Cajelnar slept with his gray head upon 
his daughter’s shoulder. 

“They will try to take her also,” he said. 

The ex-consul smiled grimly. “No power 
could keep her from following if he went,” he 
said. 

“God help and protect her,” said Mathews, 
solemnly and fervently. 

The ex-consul was watching the day breaking 
in the east. He glanced at Mathews, but looked 
away again in a moment. He made no reply 
and the sail was finished in silence. 

They landed on the Long Island shore and 
Mathews walked with them to the lonely railway 
station which was near by. It wanted a half- 
hour to train time. There were some matters to 
attend to at the wharf, and it seemed to be under- 
stood that Mathews would leave them here. He 
shook hands with Lanier and Cajelnar and then 
with Julia; as he left the station, however, she 
followed him outside. 


42 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


“I shall see you again soon?” she asked. 

“When you need me,” he answered. 

“Oh, yes, but you will come without that. 1 
have not had time to thank you for coming in 
response to my message. But I do thank you.” 

“Yes, yes, I know.” 

“And you will come?” 

“No.” 

She sighed deeply. “I*am sorry,” she said 
simply. 

“I shall hear from you through Lanier, and 
you know that I am always ready to serve you. 
It is better so. Good-by.” 

“Wait,” she said, “there is something else 
which I want you to do for me. Will you?” 

“Of course.” 

It was about Kenwood; then they separated. 

When they reached their apartment in a quiet 
part of the city, Cajelnar seemed to regain his 
spirits. He made no reference to the meeting 
with the natives of Yajoha, but entertained them, 
while the negro, their only servant, prepared 
breakfast, with an account of his journey alone 
to the island. He spoke cheerfully, almost play- 
fully, and his hearers, though they listened sadly 
enough, tried to counterfeit his mood. But when 
the breakfast was over, and Cajelnar had been 
induced to lie down to rest, Lanier and the girl 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


43 


made no pretense of concealing their anxiety and 
dread. 

Lanier came back to the room after seeing that 
Cajelnar was comfortably resting. He closed the 
door and sat down dejectedly. 

“How did they get word to him?” he asked. 

“I do not know, except that there was a letter 
which I found after he had gone. It referred to 
a previous meeting with some one, of which I 
know nothing. It is altogether a mystery.” 

“We must watch him now more closely than 
ever. Poor girl, you are tired out.” 

“No, but you are, you must rest, then we can 
plan and act.” 

“Let us act first,” answered the ex-consul. 
“To begin with, we must leave here.” 

“The city?” 

“No, it is easier to avoid them here. But we 
must go quietly to other quarters.” 

“Yes.” 

“And he must not go out alone, no matter how 
urgently he insists.” 

“Poor father!” 

The old man came over and stood beside the 
girl, stroking her dark hair gently. 

“You are like your mother,” he said. 

The change was made and matters began to 
run smoothly again. Julia was with her father 


44 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


most of the time, but occasionally, when the ex- 
consul was with him, she took little excursions 
for rest and recreation. Despite her cares and 
fears her young strength and healthfulness 
asserted themselves sometimes, and she longed 
to be out of doors. In this her grandfather en- 
couraged her. She was a fine wheel-woman and 
her recreation usually took this form. She rode 
out quite alone, for she was fearless as well as 
strong. 

One day she found herself face to face with 
Kenwood, who was riding toward her on the 
wide roadway. To the left the North River lay 
far below. He was off his wheel in an instant 
and as he came toward her she dismounted also. 
She held out her hand to him with frank pleas- 
ure. 

“I knew that I should find you,” he said. 

She smiled. “I had to come out this morn- 
ing,” she said, “is it not glorious?” 

Her bright mood became her charmingly. He 
had remembered her as he had seen her during 
their long vigil near the hut on the island. 
Then she had been oppressed by fear and grief and 
her face, for all its exquisite beauty, had borne 
an infinite sadness. This morning she was radi- 
ant with youth and strength and health. It was 
all new to Kenwood, and he felt that it was a joy 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


45 


to look upon her thus. Her dark eyes sparkled 
in the morning light, and her cheeks were 
aglow from her quick ride. 

It was quite evident that she was glad to see 
him ; she made no effort to conceal it. 

“I have often wondered if I should meet you 
ever again,” she said, smiling. 

“I was sure of it,” he said. 

She did not choose to pursue the inquiry, 
however. Presently she became serious for a 
moment. 

“I sent Mr. Mathews to you,” she said in her 
direct way. “He told you, I suppose?” 

“Yes, I felt — grateful for your confidence, 
though it was not necessary to tell me — it was 
not possible that I should have misunderstood 
you.” 

“But it must have puzzled you, my being 
there, and the mystery. You must have 
thought ” 

“I thought that Providence was very good to 
me to make it possible for me to aid you,” he 
said gravely. 

The color in her cheeks grew a shade deeper 
for an instant, and there was a moment of silence. 

“You reached your home safely, of course. 
Your father — he is safe?” 

“Yes, yes, we hope so. We hope that the 


46 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


danger is past. That is why I am enjoying my 
morning/’ she added, smiling. 

“And I am keeping you from your ride,” he 
said, glancing at her wheel, but he made no 
move to leave her. 

“Does your conscience trouble you?” she 
asked mischievously. 

“It ought,” he answered, laughing. 

“Then I can cure it, perhaps.” 

“Yes, how?” 

“I am going through the park; you may come 
with me — if you wish.” 

They mounted their wheels and she struck out 
briskly in the lead, across the wide avenue, over 
a way paved with cobblestones, and then to the' 
park entrance. She glanced back at him as she 
rode and called to him mockingly : 

“I may ride too fast for you,” she said. 

Inside the park he caught up to her and rode 
along by her side. 

“Do you ride like this usually?” he asked, 
laughing. 

“Sometimes; not always. See, I will be more 
moderate. There! is that better?” 

“It is more kind.” 

“More kind?” 

“Yes; for otherwise, I must watch my wheel.” 

“Oh,” she said. They came to a fork in the 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 47 

road ; to the right there was a hill, to the left a 
level road.” 

“Do you mind the hill?” she asked. 

“No, and there is a fine view above.” 

They went up the hill at a brisk pace and at 
the top dismounted. They rested their wheels 
upon a railing and walked out into the open, 
across the rocky summit. Kenwood had caught 
the exhilaration of her mood, and as he walked by 
her side he forgot for a moment her strange his- 
tory, which had filled him with pity and keen 
sympathy, but which had oppressed him, in his 
memory of her, with sadness, and he saw beside 
him only a beautiful, happy girl. 

It was a joyous thing to him, the very privi- 
lege of looking at her, of hearing her voice. 
They were talking quite freely now, as if they 
had known each other'for many years. 

“I used to come here when I was a child,” 
said Kenwood; “we used to try to pick out the 
buildings, and to find our own housetops.” 

“Yes?” said the girl. 

“It was great fun, we thought.” He began 
pointing out the most prominent structures. 

“And there, just through the treetops,” he 
said, “you can see one corner of my father’s 
house, of my home.” 

She followed his direction vaguely. 


48 A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 

“Do you see it?” he asked. 

She looked again. “Yes, yes, I see,” she said. 

There was something in her tone that made 
him look at her quickly. She was smiling still, 
but some of the joy had gone from her eyes. 

Suddenly she turned, and, stretching out her 
arm, pointed to the southwest. 

“See,” she said, “there is my home!” 

She was smiling still, but in her smile there 
was real sadness now. Kenwood understood. 
His heart leaped with sorrow for her. 

“A continent and an ocean stretch between,” 
she said. 

There was a pathos in her words and look and 
tone which touched the hearts of both and held 
them spellbound. Kenwood longed to speak to 
her with words of comfort, but no words came to 
his lips. She dropped her arm and they stood 
silently. Again she was the first to speak. 

“Don’t think that I am always complaining,” 
she said. “For myself I do not mind so much, 
but think of my father. Oh, it is cruel, cruel. 
You think that it is strange that he longs to go 
back, to brave them all if necessary, and take his 
rightful place or die there in his own land. We 
try to keep him from going; I try, though I do 
not know whether I am right or wrong. But if 
I were a man, I would be like him. I would go, 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


49 


if only one of all my people was loyal. Those 
who thrust me from my place, I would punish ; I 
would he without mercy ; or if I could not accom- 
plish it I would die there, by their ungrateful 
hands.” 

Her eyes were blazing now. The lines of her 
beautiful face were drawn and her breath came 
quickly. 

“Tell me, would not you?” she demanded, 
facing him. 

No wild blood of a savage ancestry flowed in 
Kenwood’s veins, but by her beauty and her 
vibrating voice the girl carried him with her in 
all her changing moods. 

“It would be madness, but I would go,” he 
said fervently. 

The girl looked earnestly into his eyes for a 
breathless moment. 

“I believe that you would,” she said, “for you 
are a man.” 

Then before he could stop her, she ran swiftly 
across the rocks, mounted her wheel and disap- 
peared. He followed, but she was lost to his 
view and he could not find her. 


50 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE, 


CHAPTER V. 

A VISITOR AND A STORY. 

Kenwood rode up and down the several road- 
ways in 4 the vicinity of the hill, hoping to find 
his companion of a few minutes before, but finally 
he gave up the search and left the park. He had 
no heart to continue his ride alone, and reluc- 
tantly he turned his wheel homeward. When 
Kenwood told Miss Cajelnar that he had been 
sure that he would find her, he spoke more truly 
than his light tone indicated. It was true, in- 
deed, that since his adventure on the island the 
memory of the beautiful girl had not been absent 
from his mind. The fact that she sent Mathews 
to him to tell him why he had found her in the 
midst of circumstances so peculiar and extraordi- 
nary added to the impulse of admiration and 
respect which already she had inspired in him. 
But if thoughts of her had*filled his mind since 
their first meeting, after the meeting of to-day 
he found his whole being vibrating in harmony 
with the chords which she had struck. How 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONH, 


51 


exquisitely charming she had been in her joyous 
mood, how thoroughly a woman; and how noble 
in more serious moments. And for all his dis- 
appointment at her sudden and unexpected 
departure, the sum total of the day’s experience 
filled Kenwood with hope. He could not doubt 
that he would find her yet again. It seemed to 
him that already she was a part of his life, and 
that she must remain so. 

Thoughts of this nature filled Kenwood’s mind 
as he rode slowly homeward. Before he had 
time to dismount on reaching his home a serv- 
ant, who had been watching for him hurried 
down the steps. 

“Oh, Mr. Stephen,” he said, “we have been 
searching for you everywhere, sir. Have you — 
have you heard — sir?” 

“No! what is it?” demanded Kenwood, 
startled. 

“Your father, ^sir — ” began the man, but Ken- 
wood bounded up the stairs without waiting to 
hear more. 

In the hallway stood a man whom he recognized 
as the family physician. The doctor motioned 
toward a small reception room off from the hall- 
way, and Kenwood followed him. 

“Tell me quickly, what has happened?” 

“Your father was taken suddenly ill at his 
office,” said the physician gravely. 


52 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


“He has been brought home; I can see him? 
Where is he?” 

“He has been brought home,” said the doctor, 
speaking so slowly that Kenwood clutched the 
physician’s arm in his impatience, “and they 
sent for me at once — but — it was too late.” 

“Too late!” 

“He is dead.” 

Kenwood reeled against the doorway, and 
pressed his hands convulsively against his 
temples. But in a moment he mastered himself. 

“What was it?” he asked. 

“It seems to have been a sudden failure of the 
heart. Your father was dead when I reached 
him. There was a physician at the office and I 
have given you his diagnosis.” 

Kenwood was hardly listening. 

“My poor father,” he said. 

On the daj r after the funeral Kenwood received 
a visit from his father’s solicitor. 

“I have thought best to come to you so soon,” 
he said, “for, as you are doubtless aware, your 
father’s affairs were varied, and some of them 
require almost immediate attention. Your father 
was a most "orderly man, sir, and you will have 
little difficulty ^understanding the responsibil- 
ities and opportunities which have devolved 
upon you. He could hardly have left matters ii* 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


53 


better condition bad he known that he was to 
die. Yet his death must have been wholly unex- 
pected. I do not know, sir, how fully you were 
informed concerning your father’s business 
operations.” 

“I know almost nothing of them. I — I was to 
have joined him actively very soon, but I had 
not yet been admitted to his confidence in such 
matters.” 

“So I fancied. Well, I fear you will have to 
begin now in earnest; I hope you will begin.” 

“Yes, that is my intention.” 

“I have brought with me numerous papers to 
which I will ask you to give your attention as 
soon as may be.” 

“Certainly.” 

The lawyer paused, and ran over the papers 
rapidly. From them he took a large, long en- 
velope containing a document of considerable 
thickness. The envelope was doubly sealed and 
was addressed to Kenwood in his father’s hand- 
writing. 

“This,” said the lawyer, “is doubtless the 
most important of all the papers. I know noth- 
ing of its contents. Your father brought it to 
me several years ago and left it with me to give 
to you in case he should die suddenly without 
being able to see you. Not an extraordinary pre- 


54 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


caution, sir, though some would declare that he 
had a presentiment of the manner of his death. 
The envelope was never reopened by him, nor 
did he ever refer to it after leaving it with me. 
We always looked over his permanent documents 
once a year. This one he would take from the 
box and hold in his hand for a moment without 
speaking. Then he would put it with the pile 
of papers already looked over, and we would go 
on with our work. I have heard him sigh deeply 
as he put it down, but he never said anything 
concerning it.” 

Kenwood took the letter and holding it before 
him, gazed upon it with peculiar emotions. His 
father had been very dear to him. Their rela- 
tions for many years had been characterized by a 
quiet dignity which might have been mistaken 
for coldness, but their devotion* to each other 
had been deep and strong. Kenwood had looked 
forward with the keenest pleasure to joining his 
father in hisjbusiness affairs, and it had been his 
hope that he might lighten in time the weight 
of care and responsibility which the elder man 
carried. And now it seemed to him that his 
father was about to speak to him once more, and 
for the last time. There was joy in the thought, 
but with it an infinite sorrow. In the days since 
his father’s death it had seemed to Kenwood 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


55 


that almost the most cruel circumstance of all 
had been that his father had died while his son 
was absent from him, without a word, without 
even a look of recognition and love. 

The lawyer rose to take his departure. 

“I will come to you again — say to-morrow 
morning/ ’ he said. “Meanwhile, should you 
have urgent need of me, which is unlikely, you 
can reach me at my office or even at my residence 
after business hours. I am absolutely at your 
service, as you see. Good-day, sir.” 

Kenwood walked with him to the door of the 
library, and returning took up his father’s letter. 
But still he hesitated to open it. He turned it 
over, regarding it curiously, weighted it and 
marked its thickness; then put it carefully down 
again upon the table. He was conscious that 
his brain was in a whirl; he felt that he must 
calm himself, gain strength and clearness of 
mind, before he could read his father’s message, 
whatever it might be. 

He walked to the window, and, drawing aside 
the heavy curtain, looked out upon the street. 
In the peculiar condition of his mind he began 
curiously to note the workmanship of the cor- 
nices of the houses across the way, and to count 
the windows. Vagrant impressions followed 
one another through his brain with confusing 


56 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


rapidity. But gradually he grew calmer, though 
he still stood at the window looking out upon the 
quiet pavement. And now upon his mental vision 
there came a pair of glorious dark eyes, and a 
face of rare and radiant beaut} 7 — Julia Cajelnar’s 
face — and curiously a sentence which she had 
spoken, perhaps because its sadness fitted his 
mood, kept repeating itself in his thought: “A 
continent and an ocean stretch between.” 

Now he fell into reverie, and leaving the win- 
dow flung himself into a huge easy-chair where 
he remained motionless, with his head resting 
back upon the cushions, and his eyes half-closed. 

Presently he was aroused by a light knock at 
the door and, in answer to his startled “Come 
in,” a servant entered bearing a plate with a 
card upon it. 

“A gentleman to see you, sir,” he said. “He 
said he would not disturb you if it were not very 
important, sir.” 

Kenwood took the card. 

“Montgomery, Montgomery,” he said, “I do 
not know any Montgomery.” 

“No, sir, ho said you would not know the 
name. But he said it was very important.” 

“What is he like?” 

“A tall, large man, sir, and I should think a 
Southerner.” 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 57 

Kenwood hesitated and then turned back to 
his easy-chair. 

“Very well, show him up,” he said. 

“I have taken the liberty of calling upon you 
here,” said the visitor after the two men had 
bowed stiffly to each other, “because my busi- 
ness is of a nature whicK will admit of no delay. 
I trust you will pardon me if I make no further 
excuses.” 

Kenwood bowed, remaining standing and 
waiting for Montgomery to go on. The man’s 
manner, without being exactly offensive, dis- 
pleased Kenwood undefinedly. 

“The fact is,” Montgomery continued, “that 
I was about to have an interview with your father 
on the day he died. I had communicated with 
him already, and he had appointed an hour, as 
you will see by this note which I had received 
from him.” 

He handed Kenwood a sheet of paper, and the 
young man glanced at it, examined the signature 
with some care, and handed it back. It was 
written on his father’s [memorandum paper and 
was undoubtedly genuine. It was purely formal ; 
it said : 

“I can see you at 3 o’clock at my office. 

“Kenwood.” 


58 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


“At 3 o’clock your father was dead. As the 
heir, sir, of your father's obligations as well 
as his fortunes, I must acquaint you with the 
nature of my business with him.” 

Kenwood felt a growing impatience and dis- 
like toward his visitor, and he spoke now with 
brusqueness. 

“Whatever my father’s obligations are,” he 
said, “they will be fulfilled by his heir to the 
utmost. But I have yet had no time to examine 
his business or even his personal affairs, and I 
must ask you to wait until I am prepared better 
to understand and administer these matters. 
In the meantime, I must refer you to my father’s 
solicitor, who also acts for me.” 

Kenwood moved to open the door in token 
that the interview was closed, but his visitor 
stopped him with a gesture. 

“My business can neither be delayed nor re- 
ferred to a solicitor,” he said boldly. “I do not 
wish to be insistent, but I have no choice.” 

“I do not understand you.” 

“Ah, but you will understand. Sir, my busi- 
ness refers to the honor of your father, as well as 
to the interest of those whom I represent.” 

“My father’s honor!” 

“Exactly. You will guard it best by listening 
to what I have to tell you.” 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


59 


“Explain yourself/ * 

“I cannot, in a moment; I have reason to be- 
lieve that you know nothing of the story, and it 
is a long one. I do not doubt that you will de- 
mand proofs, and they will be forthcoming. I 
have come to tell you the story. I warn you 
not to refuse to listen.* * 

“That is a threat!** 

“No, it is a statement^ fact.** 

The hot blood surged to Kenwood’s head and 
he approached his visitor, a dangerous light 
shining in his eyes. The man stood his ground 
coolly. 

“It is a threat,” said Kenwood, “the threat of 
a blackmailer.** 

The man shrugged his shoulders. 

“Those are hard words, Mr. Kenwood,** he 
said. “I ask you to hear nothing which I can- 
not prove.** 

Kenwood felt his fingers tingling with an 
almost mastering impulse to take the man by the 
throat, but he restrained himself with an effort, 
and there was a moment’s silence during which 
he grew calmer. Suddenly Kenwood turned 
and summoned a servant. 

“You wait over there,” he said to Montgom- 
ery, indicating a corner of the room, “sit down, 
for you may be hero some time.” 


60 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


“James,” he said as the servant appeared, “go 
over to the station and ask Captain Dickartt to 
send an officer here at once. When he comes let 
him wait downstairs until I summon him.” 

Montgomery stood looking on quite coolly. 
Kenwood closed the door as the servant departed, 
locked it, and put the key in his pocket. 

“Now, sir,” he said, turning toward his visi- 
tor, “I think that you are a blackmailer and a 
rascal, but I am going to hear your story. 
When it is finished I confidently expect to turn 
you over to the policeman for whomjl have sent. ” 

Montgomery seated himself without^apparent 
nervousness. 

“You have granted all that I ask,” he said, “I 
do not mind your fireworks, though they spare 
me the necessity of telling my story delicately.” 

“Go on,” said Kenwood impatiently. 

Montgomery settled himself easily in his chair 
and began his narrative. 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


61 


CHAPTER VI. 

Stephen kenwood’s inheritance. 

“Not quite twenty years ago,” began Mont- 
gomery, “your father was a struggling lawyer in 
San Francisco, poor and generally accounted un- 
successful. I am going to tell you why he 
abandoned his profession and how he secured 
the chance to begin the business career which 
he pursued so brilliantly. When your father died 
so suddenly the newspapers printed extra edi- 
tions telling the news; if he had died before the 
incident which I am about to relate, hardly a 
newspaper, even locally, would have chronicled 
the event.” 

Montgomery was speaking slowly as if engaged 
in friendly reminiscence. Kenwood stopped 
him roughly : 

“Come, come, sir,” he cried, “you are pre- 
suming upon my patience. Get to the point of 
your story.” 

“Very well,” said Montgomery easily, “I will. 
Finding that he was a failure professionally, your 


62 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


father turned to knavery to retrieve his fortunes. 
Have you ever heard of the Island of Yajoha i n 
the Pacific ?” 

Kenwood started. 

“It is the dwelling place of an ancient race, 
and the head of an important group of islands, 
though it is true that they are little known. 
Less than twenty years ago your father, Stephen 
Kenwood, senior, headed an expedition of 
piracy, looted an ancient temple on the island, 
and brought away a treasure which had been 
deposited there generations before and left un- 
harmed, through the devotion of a deeply reli- 
gious people. As a result of this vile robbery 
your father was able to embark on the road to 
wealth and fortune, but as a result of it also, an 
enraged people murdered a helpless woman, who 
was their queen, and drove their king into des- 
olate exile.’ ’ 

Montgomery was either an excellent actor or 
his feelings were deeply aroused by the wrongs 
of the land of which he spoke, for as he con- 
cluded he rose from his chair and began to pace 
excitedly across the end of the room, tossing 
back the hair from his forehead and his eyes 
flashing. 

Kenwood watched him for a time in silence. 
For a moment he had been stunned by the re- 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


63 


cital, but now he was thinking clearly and 
rapidly. He was fitting the details of this man’s 
narrative with those of the story which Mathews 
had told him. Astounding as the discovery was, 
he saw that they coincided with exactness. For 
the first time it came to him that part of the 
man’s story might be true. 

“You spoke of proofs,” he said at length, 
“what proofs can you bring?” 

Montgomery gave a short laugh. He re- 
seated himself in his chair. 

“I can and will bring you the best of proof,” 
he said. “Two of the men who were with your 
father in this expedition are here in this city 
with me. I shall bring them to you. I desire 
you to make the fullest investigation.” 

“You may depend that I will,” said Kenwood, 
between his teeth. 

“Exactly; and when it is made, you will say 
that I have done you a service. And then — ” 
Montgomery hesitated. 

“And then — ” said Kenwood. 

Montgomery shrugged his shoulders and 
looked at Kenwood curiously. After all, the 
man had been but a skillful actor. 

“Perhaps you will pay me,” he said boldly. 

“Ah,” said Kenwood. He walked to the win- 
dow and looked out for a time, lines of care 


64 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


deepening on his forehead. Presently he turned, 
walked to the door, unlocked it and flung it 
open. 

“You can go,” he said to Montgomery. 

“And the men, your father’s companions?” 

“Bring them here to-morrow, at 10. Now 
go.” 

Montgomery walked to the door, but turned 
as he crossed the threshold. 

“The policeman down there,” he said with an 
ironical smile, “shall I tell him that you do not 
need his services to-day?” 

Kenwood vouchsafed no answer and Mont- 
gomery left him. 

“I will return to-morrow at 10,” he called 
back as he descended the stairs. 

Kenwood sat silently for a long time still re- 
volving, over and over again, the astounding reve- 
lations which his visitor had made. As to the 
truth of the assertion that his history was thus 
involved with that of Julia Cajelnar — for thus the 
problem presented itself to his mind, he made 
no effort toward decision. His mind was work- 
ing rapidly now to bring the facts as he knew 
them into their proper relation with each other. 
It was an effort of classification rather than of 
determination. 

It was clear to him that the whole story which 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE, 


65 


Montgomery had told him might be a skillful 
manipulation of truth, of truth fasely applied. 
It might be pure blackmail, this charge that his 
father had assisted, had led the expedition, al- 
though the story of the expedition might be, and 
doubtless was, substantially true. It was not the 
sort of a story that could be kept secret ; doubt- 
less many persons were acquainted with its main 
features, and not a few with its details. 

At length the young man rose and began pac- 
ing backward and forward across the room. As 
he passed the table his glance suddenly fell upon 
the letter which his father had written and left 
with his lawyer for delivery. 

He took it up and broke the seals without hesi- 
tation. His mind grasped eagerly now at this 
definite thing. Without waiting to sit down he 
ran hastily over the first few pages; then he 
threw himself into a chair and, beginning again 
at the first of the letter, read on, slowly and care- 
fully. This is what he read : 

“My Dear Son: You may have wondered, as 
you grew to manhood, that I did not make you, 
my only heir, more fully a confidant in business 
matters ; that I have not actively prepared you 
for the grave responsibilities which one day 
must be shifted from my shoulders to yours. I 
have hoped, and still hope, as I pen these lines. 


A *rGHT FOR A THRONE. 


68 

that the responsibilities which I must leave to 
you may be of a pecuniary nature only, involv- 
ing merely the management and continuance of 
large and prospering interests, with the solution 
of the grave and serious problems thus involved. 
That these may be all which I need explain to 
you I sincerely trust, for your own sake and, yes, 
for my own, and that it may bo so I have de- 
layed, and still delay. Yet I dare not run the 
risk of silence altogether, and this letter, which 
I shall intrust to Mr. Burden, is to be given to 
you should I meet with some sudden accident or 
— die suddenly. It is to explain to you a task 
which I expect, myself, to perform, which, if I 
perform it, shall never be made known to you, 
and which will devolve upon you only in the 
event of my death before it is accomplished. 
Yet should I die, leaving it unperformed, I 
charge you to perform it, at whatever cost. 

“I presume you know that the fortune which 
has been mine for many years, and which, under 
the seeming favor of Providence, is increasing 
yearly, did not fall to me by inheritance. Yet 
the beginning of it did not come to me, as you 
may perhaps have thought, through the slow 
process of business development. If I accom- 
plish my task, you shall never know how the 
start came to me. But until it is accomplished, 
I dare not leave it unrecorded. Thank God, your 
mother never had to know while she lived ; if, 
on the other side, she knows, she is in a land 
where they know forgiveness also. But come, I 
must write it down. 

“When you were a boy of four I was a penni- 


A FlGliT FOR A THkONE. 


67 


less lawyer in San Francisco. One day, by 
chance, I was called upon to defend a rough 
sailor in a petty case. The prosecution bungled, 
and with little effort I secured his acquittal. He 
was full of gratitude — he had no other means of 
paying me a fee — and afterward he used to drop 
into my office occasionallj’, and, because he was 
the only person, except your mother and you 
who seemed to care to come near me, I did not 
repel him. 

“It is a miserable story that I am going to tell 
you, Stephen, but try to remember, when you 
judge me, that I was penniless and a failure; 
that I had a wife and little child who almost any 
day might want for bread. I could not see right 
and wrong as I see them now. All this you can- 
not realize, perhaps, but I charge you to read 
with charity if ever you read these words. You 
see I hesitate as I reach the point of confession. 
Yes, it is confession, but I must not allow my- 
self to shrink. 

“One day this fellow told me a story which I 
listened to idly, believing it to be a sailor’s yarn. 
He told of an island in the South Pacific where 
untold wealth had been for years, for genera- 
tions, deposited beneath the shrine of a heathen 
temple. Day after day, from that time forth, he 
persisted in his story, and finally, point blank, 
proposed that I join him in an expedition to take 
this store and turn it to our own uses. With the 
constant repetition, the story had gradually 
taken hold upon my imagination. I shall not 
tell you how I resisted the temptation at first, 
for finally I yielded. We talked it over until I 


68 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


lost my moral perspective. I began to believe, as 
he so stoutly urged, that sooner or later, some 
one must seize the treasure. It had no protec- 
tion, save the little that a savage people could 
provide. Practically, it was at the mercy of who- 
ever knew of it and chose to reach out and take 
it. Trade was beginning to spring up with that 
and the neighboring islands and the isolation 
which had protected the treasure soon would 
protect it no longer. 

“We fitted out an expedition, secretly and 
successfully, and after a long voyage reached the 
island. We entered the bay just after nightfall. 
Some disturbance had excited the people and no 
notice was taken of our arrival. We told our 
crew that white men had been massacred there 
and that we were come to take vengeance. We 
dealt out liquor to them in generous propor- 
tions, and, if any of them cared, they believed. 
We found the temple — a rude building, and 
secured the treasure. The place was defended 
only by a few priests, most of whom were killed 
in the fight which ensued. The temple was prac- 
tically demolished and the shrine was destroyed, 
for under it the treasure lay. 

“The treasure was much smaller than we had 
expected. Prom the expedition, however, I 
realized enough to give me my beginning, and 
all that I have now is in a certain sense the 
result of this terrible crime; for crime it was, 
and so for many years I have regarded it. 

“But I have not yet told the worst, or indi- 
cated the task which is to be performed. What 
I am now about to tell you I did not learn until 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


69 


more than a year after the looting of the temple. 
It appears that the chief of the island, or king, as 
they called him, was a half-breed, and that his 
wife was a white woman. The robbery, or at 
least the destruction of the temple, was placed 
at their door. The people went mad, and mur- 
dered the wife and drove the chief with a little 
child, his daughter, from their shores. It is 
this which rests so heavily on my conscience, 
and for years it has been my fondest hope that 
some day I may be able to make suitable restitu- 
tion. Whatever befalls, I know that I can never 
rest until it is accomplished. It haunts me day 
and night. That yet I have done nothing toward 
this end I confess with shame, but the way has 
never seemed clear, nor does it now seem clear. 

“His name is Peter Oajelnar.” 

Thus abruptly the letter closed, with the sig- 
nature of Kenwood’s father. Kenwood looked 
again in the envelope and discovered that there 
was an enclosure. It was brief. It said : 

“Since writing this, I have learned that Cajel- 
nar and his daughter are in this city. This 
should make my task easier, but I still have no 
plan. “S. K.” 

"When Kenwood finished the reading he put 
the papers carefully back into the envelope, and, 
holding it still in his hands, sat motionless. The 
sunlight came in through the window slantingly, 


TO 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


and he watched it idly while it crept slowly 
across the carpet, as the sun sank lower. When 
the servant came to light the lamps he was still 
sitting there, so still that the man would have 
gone out on tiptoe thinking him asleep, but he 
called to him : 

“I want the lights, James,” he said, “for I 
have work to do.” 

The man watched Kenwood furtively while 
arranging the lamps. 

“You are not ill, sir?” he said timidly. 

“No, no, what made you think of it?” 

“You look worn, sir, begging your pardon. 
You need rest, sir.” 

“My father never rested, James.” 

“No, sir. He used to saj r he couldn’t rest, 
sir; that he rested while he worked.” 

“Perhaps I can rest — while I work,” said Ken- 
wood. 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


?r 


CHAPTER VII. 

THE MATTER OF REPARATION. 

Kenwood’s life up to this time had been one of 
ease, though not of idleness. He had worked, 
as one must who has the fitness for work within 
him, but he had been his own master. He had 
a taste for study and made much of large oppor- 
tunities; his accomplishments as an artist were 
modest, but he did not overrate them. He 
understood when he sat before his easel that he 
was not engaged in serious work. Of what seri- 
ous work would be he had clear and thoughtful 
views, and if he did not look forward to the be- 
ginning of it with extravagant enthusiasm, a3 
many young men do, his strong manhood told 
him that when the time came he would take his 
place among men, forcefully and diligently, as 
befitted his kind. 

Thus neither the sudden death of his father, 
nor the fearful revelation which followed it, nor 
the unaccomplished task which with terrible 
certainty fastened itself upon him for perform- 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 

ance, found him weak or unprepared. At first 
he had been stunned, then confused, and for a 
space without the power of determination and 
action. But soon he began to think quite clearly ; 
his moral perceptions, as well as his reason, fully 
awake. 

He wasted no time in condemnation of his 
father, whom he loved and respected, or yet in 
apology for him. The curious fact that the duty 
which his father so clearly perceived had been so 
long neglected, although he found no explanation 
for it either in the letter or in his knowledge of 
his father’s character, impressed him only as 
another reason why his own action must be 
prompt and complete. For that it must be so 
he never questioned. 

Nor did the method of the reparation which 
must be done present to his mind a difficult or 
uncertain problem. His father’s letter indicated 
that he had contemplated some simple act of 
compensation to Cajelnar as a means of restitu- 
tion. How incomplete, how futile this would be 
was evident to the clearer vision of the son. 
Restitution he saw to be impossible, for the 
awful death of the young queen, the subsequent 
excesses and degeneracy of the people of Yajoha, 
the years of grief and exile which Cajelnar had 
endured, were irrevocable; so far beyond the 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 73 

reach of human activity that they baffled the 
mind which sought compensation for them. 

A double duty lay before him : to Cajelnar and 
to the people of Yajoha. Cajelnar’s longing to 
return to the island must be fulfilled; he must 
be placed again upon his throne; something, 
Kenwood knew not what or how, must be done 
to raise the people from the state into which they 
had fallen. Thus Kenwood decided. He did 
not count the cost. His father’s impressive in- 
junction, his own sense of right and duty urged 
him relentlessly forward. To act, to act quickly, 
was his only thought. 

It was quite late when Kenwood reached his 
final determination, but, putting aside with im- 
patience the thought of delaying until morning, 
he summoned a cab and drove to the residence of 
Mr. Burden, his father’s solicitor. A light still 
burned in the lawyer’s study and Kenwood was 
admitted at once. Mr. Burden greeted him cor- 
dially. 

“I hardly expected you to-night,” he said, 
“but I thought it possible that after looking 
over the papers, you would wish to confer with 
me immediately. Have you brought them with 
you?” 

“No; indeed I have read only the communica- 
tion which my father left with you. It was most 


74 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


important. It places a heavy responsibility 
upon me.” 

“Ah,” the lawyer bowed, waiting for the 
younger man to go on. 

“What that responsibility is it seems best not 
to explain, even to you, sir.” 

Mr. Burden made a depreciating gesture. 

“It is not necessary,” he said. 

“But I wish to be left perfectly free, ” con- 
tinued Kenwood, “for I am about to embark on 
an arduous undertaking. I have come to ask 
you — to put it plainly — how large a sum of 
money I can command immediately, and what 
my subsequent resources will be, provided I take 
no part in the management of the interests which 
are now mine, in fact leaving them to be carried 
on under your direction solely.” 

The lawyer took a slip of paper and with a 
pencil wrote seven figures upon it, passing it 
over to Kenwood. 

“So much is immediately available,” he said, 
“or can be made so.” 

“How soon?” 

“In a day or two.” 

“It must be as soon as that. There must be no 
delay. And the other matters; they can be 
arranged?” 

* “You are going away — abroad?” 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


75 


“I cannot tell; I do not know. I shall be — 
occupied for some time.” 

“They can be arranged,” said Mr. Burden, 
after a minute's thought. 

“Very well,” said Kenwood, rising, “as soon 
as the papers can be prepared let it be done. ” 
He seemed in a hurry to get away. 

The lawyer walked with him to the door. 

“I had hoped,” he said, “that you would take 
up your father’s interests and carry them on, 
sir.” He spoke with some feeling, as he opened 
the door. 

“I had hoped for that also,” said Kenwood, 
and added, for youth is sanguine: “I may do so 
yet, Mr. Burden.” 

“Yes, yes, of course,” said the lawyer. He 
closed the door as the young man drove away and 
going back to his study turned out the light 
there carefully. 

“A most extraordinary young man,” he said 
to his wife when he joined her a moment later, 
“a most extraordinary young man.” 

When he left the lawyer’s residence Kenwood 
drove at once to his club, for there he hoped to 
find Mathews. His acquaintance with Mathews 
had been familiar, though they had never been 
intimate friends, and he turned to him instinc- 
tively as one who might aid him in finding Peter 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


M 

Cajelnar. Although Mathews had said that he 
did not know where Cajelnar and his daughter 
were, he had admitted that he heard frequently 
from Lanier, and Kenwood felt confident of 
securing his aid. 

He found Mathews, as he had expected, the 
center of a lively group of the younger members. 
It was Kenwood’s first appearance at the club 
since the death of his father, and those of his 
circle who were acquainted with him rose and 
greeted hinTgravely. He shook hands with sev- 
eral of them and then turning to Mathews he 
said: 

“I came in to find you, Mathews, can you 
spare me a minute ?” 

“Yes, of course. ” 

The tw y o men walked to a quiet corner. 

“Mathews,” said Kenwood, “I think you can 
do me a service if you will; I have come to ask 
you to do it. ” 

“Anything in my power, certainly.” 

“I want you to tell me where Peter Cajelnar 
is.” 

“My dear boy,” said Mathews, smiling, “I do 
not know myself.” 

“But you could find out?” 

“I could find out, certainly.” 

“Will you?” 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


77 


Mathews hesitated, looking away. He took a 
turn across the room, leaving Kenwood standing 
watching him. Presently he stopped. 

“You ^think me an ass for hesitating, Ken- 
wood,” he said, “and I do not blame you. But 
you have asked me to do something that — that I 
would not do for myself. ” 

“Of course if ” 

“Wait. But I am not altogether an ass. At 
least, I have my better moments. I will tell you 
what I will do. I will send you to Lanier.’ ’ 

“That is all I ask.’’ 

“I would have to go to him myself, you know. 
Here, I will write you a line to him.” 

“Thank you.” 

Kenwood took the brief note which Mathews 
handed to him and the two men stood for a mo- 
ment each feeling that something more ought to 
be said, but neither finding the words to speak. 

“Good-night, and thank you again,” said 
Kenwood finally, extending his hand. 

“Good-night,” said Mathews. 

Kenwood turned and walked toward the door. 
Before he reached it, however, he looked back. 
Mathews was still standing where he left him. 
An undefined something in the expression on his 
friend’s face prompted Kenwood to go back to 
him. 


78 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


*‘1 think I ought to tell you, Mathews,” he 
said, “that my mission with Peter Cajelnar has 
nothing to do with — has no reference to — his 
daughter.” 

He spoke with an effort. The situation was 
not an easy one for either of them. 

Mathews bowed gravely, but in a moment his 
face cleared and he laughed lightly. 

“What a cad you must have thought me,” he 
said. 

Kenwood smiled. A sudden determination 
seized him. 

“I should like to prove to you that I do not 
think you anything of the sort, that I think very 
differently of you, Mathews,” he said. 

“Come now,” said Mathews lightly, “I did 
not expect you to admit it.” 

“If you will allow me to do so,” said Ken- 
wood, “I would like to tell you why I am seek- 
ing Peter Cajelnar.” 

“Why do you wish to tell me?” 

“Well, because I trust you; because you are 
acquainted with his history ; because — you may 
be able to help me — or help him ” 

“I am glad for your confidence, Kenwood; do 
not misunderstand me ; but what is there that I 
can do?” 

“Nothing, perhaps; perhaps much. Will you 


A FlGHt FOR A THRONfi. 


»9 


sit down and listen? I have much to tell you; 
much that is so strange that it almost passes 
belief.” 

“Certainly, I will listen if you desire it.” 

The two men sat down and Kenwood related 
the whole story of his father’s relation to the 
history of Yajoha. When he had finished 
Mathews said, after a pause : 

“Well, what do you intend to do?” 

“What would you do?” asked Kenwood. 

“That is hardly a fair question,” said 
Mathews. “I am not in your place; I cannot 
see all that you see.” 

“But what would you do?” persisted Ken- 
wood. 

Mathews hesitated still, finally he said : 

“There are many reasons why he should not 
go back, even if he could do so in safety.” 

“Also many why he should go.” 

“I do not know. His daughter ” 

“Would go back, even to die, if she were in 
his place!” 

“Yes, I know what she says, and she means it. 
But what if the people imprison him, kill him 
perhaps?” 

“Oh, he must be protected; he can be pro- 
tected.” 

“You are determined that he shall go back, 
Kenwood?” 


80 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


“I am determined that he shall have the 
chance ; that if he wishes to return he shall do 

> > 

so. 

Mathews was thoughtful for a space. Finally 
he said : 

“I hope you are not making a mistake, Ken- 
wood/ * 

“I am sure that I am not/* 

“How do you propose to act?” 

“I do not know.” 

“You will need help.” 

“Yes; can I count upon yours?” 

“Wait; we must consult Lanier.” 

“You are right. I suppose he will oppose the 
project.” 

“I think so, but I am not sure. He will know 
the dangers and the chances, at any rate.” 

“Tell me about Cajelnar,” said Kenwood, “is 
he in a condition to act with us, or must we act 
for him merely?” 

“I hardly know. He is not an old man, 
though he looks old. In matters relating to 
Yajoha he is keen and strong, but his health has 
been failing of late. You must see him, of 
course,” 

“At any rate,” said Kenwood, “he must de- 
cide whether he will go or not. I do not ques- 
tion what his decision will be.” 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


81 


“You think he will go?” 

“I know it.” 

“And his daughter?” 

“I suppose she will wish to go also, will she 
not?” 

“I suppose so,” answered Mathews, “but it 
would be a crime to take her there.” 

Kenwood made no answer for a moment. 
When he broke the silence he spoke very quietly. 

“My duty is to her father,” he said. 

“She will say that hers is also; she will go,” 
said Mathews dejectedly. 

“She is right,” said Kenwood. 

It was now too late to attempt to find Lanier. 
Therefore, after making an appointment for 
the morning, the two men separated and Ken- 
wood made his way homeward. It was long 
past midnight and the streets were deserted. 
When he reached home he realized, for the first 
time during that eventful day, that his strength 
was well-nigh exhausted. The hours of mental 
and physical activity had calmed his brain, and 
when he threw himself down upon his couch he 
slept. 


82 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

THE DEPASTURE. 

To Julia Cajelnar, and possibly to Lanier, the 
interval since the visit of Montgomery, Zanaka, 
and their companion to Peter Cajelnar at the 
house on the dunes had seemed to be one of in- 
creasing security. But in reality it had been 
nothing of the sort. The change of quarters, 
and Lanier’s efforts to keep Cajelnar in seclusion, 
had delayed, not checkmated, a plan which had 
been arranged at the first meeting. 

Cajelnar sought and finally established com- 
munication with Montgomery, and, when the 
ex-king made his whereabouts known, Mont- 
gomery, active and resourceful as was his nature, 
hastened to him, for that purpose abandoning 
another less important plan with which he had 
been engaged since losing track, for a brief 
space, of the former ruler of Yajoha. 

When he returned to his lodgings after his 
interview with Kenwood at the latter’s residence, 
Montgomery found these tidings from Cajelnar 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE, 


83 


awaiting him. He hastened to make use of 
them. He found Cajelnar eager to carry out the 
arrangement for his return to Yajoha, but hesi- 
tating and doubtful as to a means of evading the 
vigilance of Julia, Lanier, and those whom the 
daughter and the ex-consul might summon to 
their aid to stop the mad enterprise which he 
contemplated. Montgomery was not a man to be 
restrained by considerations of this nature. 

At first, for want of a better resource, he 
began to urge Cajelnar to disregard those who 
might seek to restrain him, to move boldly 
despite their resistance, to set out openly ; the 
ex-consul, he urged, and the others, would soon 
find themselves powerless to interfere, and later, 
when they discovered that they had been wrong, 
and that Cajelnar’s friends, Zanaka, Montgomery, 
and the rest, had acted wisely and in good faith, 
they would be the first to seek to excuse their 
former conduct. 

Thus Montgomery talked at first, in his 
smooth, easy style, graceful of manner and 
speech, convincing in the method if not the 
matter of his argument, confident, yet respect- 
ful, even deferential. He had a rare faculty of 
being insistent, almost imperative, without seem- 
ing to overstep courtesy. 

While he was speaking thus Julia came into 


84 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


the room. She recognized Montgomery at once, 
and he could see that her face grew suddenly 
pale, but she spoke to him quietly in order not 
to attract her father’s attention and calmly ac- 
complished the errand (she was looking for a 
book) which brought her into the room. Mont- 
gomery stopped talking and watched her intently 
as she scanned the shelves. He noted the grace- 
ful poise of her body, the lithe symmetry of her 
figure, the fresh young beauty of her face, and 
gradually a peculiar smile grew upon his lips. 
He did not speak until she found her book and 
left the room. 

“After all,” he said carelessly as she vanished 
through the portiere , “after all, there is no rea- 
son why you should not take your daughter with 
you.” 

But, somewhat to Montgomery’s surprise, 
Cajelnar seemed set against this suggestion. 
The ex-king’s devotion to his daughter during 
her childhood had been a controlling impulse. 
If of late it had subordinated itself to his pas- 
sion to return to Yajoha and his people, still it 
had by no means passed away, and he could not 
be led to make her a partner in an exploit which, 
despite the assurances which he had received 
from Montgomery and Zanaka, despite the bias 
which his passion to return made certain, he 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


85 


clearly considered hazardous and doubtful. To 
risk his own life and fortunes — useless and broken 
as he felt them now to be — he deemed an incon- 
siderable thing. But it was his plan that Julia 
should remain. He felt no pang in leaving her, 
for Lanier was here to protect and guide her. 
That she might be with him again, under fairer 
fortunes and brighter skies, he allowed himself 
fondly to hope, for his love for her was bound- 
less, save in respect to that which he consid- 
ered his duty as a king. 

When Julia found that Montgomery again had 
discovered her father’s whereabouts, and was in 
open communication with him, her heart sank 
within her; all the fear and dread which she 
had felt before the days of fancied security in 
their new lodgings returning with twofold 
strength. Whatever her sympathies with her 
father’s desire to return to his people, and in her 
revelation of her feelings to Kenwood she had 
not exaggerated the extent to which she did sym- 
pathize with them, she was filled, nevertheless, 
with a nameless distrust of this man, no less 
strong if less definite than of Zanaka, with 
whom he was associated. She went about her 
search for the book, suppressing as far as she 
could any sign of her agitation, because she de- 
sired not to put her father on his guard. But 


86 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


■when she left the room it was with the intention 
of summoning Lanier to her assistance without 
delay. 

She wrote a hasty note to the ex-consul, in- 
forming him of Montgomery’s presence. Then 
the problem of its delivery came to her. She 
dared not go out herself, leaving the two men 
there. After a moment, however, she bethought 
herself of the negro servant. Already he had 
been sent out on an errand, but she expected his 
return momentarily, and, despite the seriousness 
of the delay, she was forced to wait. There 
seemed no other resource. When he came, and 
the time was indeed not long, although in her 
impatience it had seemed considerable, she was 
about to dispatch him hastily with the note to 
Lanier, when she heard the door which opened 
into the hallway from the room where Mont- 
gomery and her father were, open and then 
close again. But her fear was changed to 
joy when she heard her father’s measured 
step approaching. Montgomery had gone, and 
her father had remained. For the moment 
she felt that they were safe. She therefore hesi- 
tated to send for Lanier and after a moment’s 
consideration decided not to do so. It was La- 
nier’s custom to drop in upon them in the even- 
ing, and she was anxious not to arouse her 
father’s suspicions. 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


87 


She destroyed the note to Lanier, and spent 
what remained of the afternoon and the early 
evening with her father, who seemed quite 
strong and cheerful. Her hope that Lanier 
would come was not realized, but still she hesi- 
tated to send for him, being confident that he 
would come the next day and that in the mean- 
time she could guard her father safely. 

As Mathews had said to Kenwood in telling 
him the story of the overthrow of Peter Cajelnar 
and the murder of his young queen, there are 
always a hundred might-have-beens. It is in 
moments of fancied security that disaster comes. 
Such fancies seem inexcusable, often, in the ret- 
rospect, but let not the strongest, the most vigi- 
lant, boast that they come not to him. For they 
may come, and the strongest and the most vigi- 
lant may be undone. 

Cajelnar retired to his room just before 10 
o’clock. A few minutes later Julia went to hers, 
which opened upon the same hallway. At 11 
o’clock Montgomery returned and let himself in 
at the outer door with a key which Cajelnar had 
given to him. He came softly upstairs through 
the dark hallway and waited just outside the 
door. Through the transom he could see that a 
light burned dimly within. Presently he heard 
a careful footstep, and a moment later Cajelnar 
spoke in a low tone. 


88 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


“Montgomery?” 

“Yes. Open the door.” 

Cajelnar did so softly, and Montgomery 
entered. He bore a bundle under his arm. 
This he handed to Cajelnar. 

“Hurry,” he whispered. 

In a moment Cajelnar had muffled himself so 
that his appearance was wholly concealed. 
Montgomery also wore a heavy cloak the collar 
of which he turned upward so that it concealed 
completely the lower part of his face. He now 
opened the door and with a gesture bade Cajelnar 
precede him into the darkened hallway. The 
ex-king hesitated a moment, gave a quick glance 
through the doorway leading toward his daugh- 
ter’s room, sighed deeply, for he was thinking 
of her as he gave himself to Yajoha, and advanced 
as Montgomery indicated. Slowly and carefully 
Cajelnar descended the stairs, followed by Mont- 
gomery. They let themselves out, noiselessly, 
and walked to the corner where a cab, which 
Montgomery had stationed there, awaited them. 
The streets were quite deserted. They entered 
the cab and drove rapidly away. 

When Julia Cajelnar awoke the gray of the 
dawn was just beginning to show between the 
shutter& of the half-closed blinds at her window. 
She lay still for a minute watching the increas- 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


89 


ing light and remembering the occurrences of the 
preceding day. Suddenly she sat up in bed, 
a quick, nameless fear in her heart. It was noth- 
ing new. Many, many times she had wakened 
thus, and, creeping softly to her father’s apart- 
ment, had found him sleeping quietly there. 
Even now she half-smiled at her fear, but she 
slipped out of bed, and, drawing a loose wrapper 
about her, crossed the hallway to her father’s 
room. 

With a sharp cry she started back against the 
casement. The room was empty; the bed had 
not been used. Her father was gone. The girl 
stood helpless for a moment ; then the impulse 
and the power to act came back to her in a rush- 
ing flood. She ran back to her room and dressed 
herself quickly. Soon she sped down the stairs 
and out into the street. At a district messen- 
ger’s office she stopped to send a hasty note to 
Lanier. Then she hurried onward. 


90 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE, 


CHAPTER IX. 

THE HEART OF A PRINCESS. 

Early on the morning following their inter- 
view at the club Kenwood was joined by Mathews, 
and together they set out for Lanier’s lodgings. 
They found the ex-consul at breakfast. He list- 
ened to Kenwood’s narrative without comment, 
and when the young man had completed his 
story regarded him meditatively from beneath 
his long white eyebrows 

“So it was your father who robbed the temple, ” 
he said abruptly after a long silence. 

Kenwood winced. “My father is dead,” he 
said in a low tone. 

“And'm'Z nisi bonum,’ ” quoted the ex-consul. 
“Well, I am willing. It is, I understand, 
your desire to make reparation — restitution?” 

“It was my father’s wish; I shall carryout 
the work; but it was his injunction, his desire.” 

“And you think of aiding Peter Cajelnar to 
return to his people?” 

“That is a part of my plan, sir,” said Ken- 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE, 


91 


wood. He was growing impatient under the ex- 
consul’s cool cross-questioning. 

Lanier crossed over to the mantel and took 
therefrom a long, heavy pipe, which he pro- 
ceeded to fill and light. Then he took a turn or 
two across the room. Finally he spoke. At first 
his tone was cool and even, but as he proceeded 
his voice betrayed a depth of feeling which he 
seemed to try in vain to conceal. 

“ Young man,” he said, “it is a mistake to 
suppose that your father was the cause of the 
terrible fate which overtook my daughter, or of 
the ruin of poor Peter Cajelnar’s fortunes. It is 
true that he furnished the occasion ; hardly more. 
But if, knowing this, the fortune which has re- 
sulted partly from that unhappy deed and which 
now is yours, seems to you unfit for use and 
enjoyment by a man of high principle — for this 
I take you to be — cast it into the sea, into the 
streets, burn it, bestow it upon the needy, waste 
it in revels, burn it like a thing accursed, but do 
not add to the sorrows of that unhappy land, of 
that unhappy man and his devoted daughter, or 
to the burdens of my old age, by seeking to send 
him back to an ungrateful and murderous peo- 
ple; back to his death, sir, I tell you. It would 
be madness, nothing less.” 

The old man’s manner, no less than his words, 


92 


A FIGIIT FOR A THRONE. 


was impressive, and for a moment even Kenwood 
was shaken in his purpose. 

But neither the fate of Peter Cajelnar, nor of 
his daughter, nor yet their own, was in the 
hands of these men. 

As the ex-consul stopped speaking there came 
a knock at the door and a message was handed 
to Lanier. He read it and without comment 
handed it to Mathews, who, after reading it, 
passed it silently to Kenwood. It was the hasty 
note which Julia Cajelnar had written as she 
hurried forth after discovering the absence of 
her father. 

“Montgomery has been here,” it said, “and 
my father is gone. Follow me to the house on 
the dunes.” 

The three men looked at each other blankly, 
but Lanier was quick to take the lead. 

“There is no time to lose,” he cried. “1 was 
fearful of this, and unless I am mistaken they 
mean business this time. Mr. Kenwood, will 
you accompany us?” 

“Yes, yes,” said Kenwood, “there is nothing 
else that I can do.” 

Meanwhile Julia Cajelnar was hurrying across 
Long Island and across the bay to the house on 
Water Island where she believed her father to 
have gone. The morning was well advanced 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


93 


when she reached the narrow strip near the 
house, and with a sinking heart she pushed for- 
ward over the heavy sand. But when she 
reached the house her heart leaped with joy, for 
she heard voices, and among them that of her 
father. 

Without hesitation she entered and hastened 
to the room from which the voices came. Mont- 
gomery, Zanaka, and the other native were there 
with Cajelnar. Her father sprang from his chair, 
an expression of distress and annoyance coming 
from his lips as she entered. 

“This comes of your accursed delay,” he said 
to Montgomery angrily. 

“Father!” cried the girl, throwing her arms 
about him. 

He stroked her dark hair gently, — he was al- 
ways gentle with her, — and kissed her softly on 
the forehead. 

“Why have you come here, my child?” he 
asked. 

“Father, come home with me, come away,” 
she pleaded. 

“Hush, I am going back to my people, child, 
to take my place again, where God placed me.” 

“But how can you leave me, father? Am I 
nothing, that you leave me so?” 

Cajelnar still stroked her dark, lustrous hair 


94 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


softlj r , and he spoke tenderly, though with a far- 
away expression on his face which showed that 
he was thinking most of that far-off land where 
he hoped to be a man and a king again. 

“I would not leave you, child, if I might fol- 
low the simple dictates of a father’s heart,” he 
said, “but I am king as well as father, and those 
others are the king’s children, calling for him 
over the seas ; they are many and you are one, 
though dearer than the rest, and there are those 
who will care for you while the others are in 
darkness. I go to lead them back to the light. 
Let me go, child. You cannot know as I know, 
or feel as I feel ; yet you were born a princess ; 
let your heart speak; it will tell you why I go.” 

Suddenly the girl drew herself up proudly, 
and as she looked at her father there came a new 
expression over her beautiful face. 

“My heart tells me why you go,” she said, 
“and it shames me that I have sought to hinder 
you. Father, if you are a king, I also am the 
daughter of a king. Take me with you, that I 
may help to lead our people from their darkness 
to the light.” 

“No, no,” said Cajelnar, “it must not be.” 

“Take me with you, oh, take me,” pleaded the 
girl. 

During this dialogue Montgomery and Zanaka 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


95 


remained motionless and silent. Montgomery- 
regarded the girl with a growing sense of admira- 
tion, which, however, he took care to conceal 
from Zanaka, whose attitude toward her was evi- 
dently one of the most intense dislike. Zanaka 
now sought to interpose. 

“It would be most unwise, excellency,” he 
said respectfully, but the lines of his dark face 
deepened with ^the effort which it cost him to 
conceal his real feelings. 

Zanaka’s opposition seemed to arose Cajelnar. 

“Why unwise?” he demanded almost hotly. 

The aged native stooped his shoulders cring- 
ingly, and spoke apologetically, though his eyes 
gleamed. 

“The feelings of our people — ” he began, but 
Cajelnar cut him short haughtily. 

“She is their princess, and my daughter,” he 
said coldly. “She is of the blood. What 
feeling can they have toward her, except one of 
welcome?” 

Zanaka made no reply, but shrugged his 
shoulders. Montgomery now joined in the dis- 
cussion. 

“Father Zanaka is over-cautious,” he said 
smoothly. “I think that it is most desirable 
that the princess should accompany us.” 

Julia cast a surprised and grateful glance at 


'96 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


Montgomery, but he was looking away from her 
and she did not catch the expression upon his 
face. 

“Father, let me come/’ she pleaded. 

Meanwhile Zanaka moved across the room to 
the corner where Montgomery was standing, and 
began to expostulate with that chivalrous person. 

Montgomery answered him gravely in a low 
tone. Zanaka seemed to be silenced though not 
satisfied. The question now rested with Cajelnar 
for determination. He seemed to hestitate, 
moved by conflicting impulses. 

And now, across the water, there came to them 
the booming of a gun; once, twice, thrice it 
sounded. 

“At last!” cried Montgomery. 

He ran to the window and looked out. Beyond 
the bar a long, low, black-painted steamer was 
now within view. Presently a boat was lowered, 
and sent shoreward. 

The four men began to prepare for departure. 

“Father, let me come,” pleaded the girl. 

“Excellency!” protested Zanaka. 

Cajelnar threw up his head and took his 
daughter’s hand in his. 

“Sho shall go,” he said. 

Zanaka’s face grew rigid and his eyes gleamed 
again. Montgomery smiled curiously and turned 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


97 


away. The girl drew her father’s proud head 
down and kissed him. The kiss spoke of devo- 
tion, of protecting love, but also it spoke of pride 
and joy in his determination. Cajelnar already 
looked a new man. He walked with an elastic 
step, holding his head high, his tall figure erect 
and vigorous. There was a trace of excitement 
in his eyes, and a color something more than 
natural in his cheeks, but he commanded himself 
perfectly. 

“Come,” he said, and with his daughter by 
his side he left the house and walked toward the 
shore. A moment later the five were on board 
the small boat, speeding out toward the steamer. 

After receiving the note from. Julia Cajelnar 
Lanier, Mathews, and Kenwood hurried away 
from the ex-consul’s lodgings, a terrible weight 
of dread and anxiety tugging at the heart of 
each. They said little to each other during the 
long, tedious journey, although inwardly they 
cursed the schedules, which were against them, 
and the slowness of the train, when at last it left 
the station. When they reached the bay, the 
breeze was so light that with "every inch of can- 
vas spread they scarcely crept across the surface 
of the listless water. 

When they reached the island it was well on 


98 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


past noon. Kenwood was in the lead as they 
hurried across the sand lots to the hut. With- 
out waiting for his companions to come up he 
dashed inside the building and called aloud. 
But there came no answer. He moved rapidly 
from room to room, but no sign of life rewarded 
him. The house, he saw, was deserted. 

As he retraced his steps he met the ex-consul. 

“We are too late,” he said. 

“Too late,” rejoined the ex-consul dejectedly. 

“But where is Miss Cajelnar ; she must have 
been here?” 

“With her father, probably,” said Lanier. 

And now as the three men rushed out and to 
the shore, they saw in the distance the smoke of 
a steamer heading southward. As they stood 
there gazing they shook their fists at the reced- 
ing object in impotent rage. 

“What is to be done?” cried Mathews. 

“God knows,” groaned the ex-consul. 

But Kenwood now took the lead. 

“Done,” he cried, “we must follow them, if 
they lead us to the ends of the earth.” 

“You are right,” said Mathews, grasping 
Kenwood’s hand. 

“Yes, you are right,” said Lanier, less hope- 
fully, but with a gleam of resolution and deter- 
mination in his deep set eyes. 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE, 90 

“To protect Peter Cajelnar, and restore him 
to his rightful estate,’ * said Kenwood. 

“To rescue and to guard his daughter,’’ cried 
Mathews. 

“To bring them back, please God, before ever 
they set foot upon that accursed land,’’ said 
Lanier. 


100 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


CHAPTEK X. 

A NIGHT AND A DAY AT MONTEVIDEO. 

Now began that remarkable chase around Cape 
Horn, some of the incidents of which Kenwood 
several years later detailed in a most admirable 
series of letters to the Royal Geographical Jour- 
nal. For the purposes of this history, however, 
it is not deemed necessary, or indeed permis- 
sible, to reproduce his fine descriptions and apt 
comments, interesting and instructive as they are ; 
the thread of narrative must not be lost in a tangle 
of descriptive excellence or indeed in a tangle of 
explanation or apology. The story teller is neither 
essayist, compiler, nor commentator; he moves 
under orders which include no restful pauses at 
the wayside fountains of thought. Let him 
change horses quickly; perhaps eating a hasty 
meal, without removing his spurs — if, indeed, he 
remove his hat — but let him up and on again, 
valiantly. Let it be hoped that the tale he 
bears may cheer him over many a jaded mile. 

One hot night a month after the events narrated 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


101 


in the preceding chapter the steamer Occident 
lay in the shelter of the semicircular . bay oppo- 
site the city of Montevideo, discharging by 
means of lighters a cargo of merchandise which, 
for the sake of regularity, she had brought with 
her from the North. She was the steamer upon 
which Cajelnar and his daughter had embarked 
under the conduct of Montgomery and the 
natives of Yajoha. She had arrived in the har- 
bor early in the day, but her unloading had 
been delayed until late in the afternoon by a 
host of South American formalities ; but now the 
work was being pushed with rapidity. 

Zanaka and Montgomery stood near the rail, 
watching the laborers as they worked. Zanaka’s 
swarthy face bore an expression of dissatisfaction 
and displeasure rather more pronounced than 
usual. The two men spoke to each other in the 
tongue of the native, which Montgomery managed 
smoothly enough. 

“Fools!” grumbled Zanaka, “we ought to 
have come without that.” He indicated the 
cargo as he spoke, with a disdainful gesture. 

Montgomery, who was smoking, waited to re- 
light his cigar before he answered. 

“You have no sense of expediency,” he said, 
as if explaining to a child. “We are not fools, 
but wise men. Thus we avoid question, suspi- 


102 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


cion. The delay is short, the benefit is long. 
Come, be cheerful!” 

“The delay; you do not dislike it,” observed 
Zanaka, showing his teeth. 

“What do you mean?” demanded Montgom- 
ery. His tone was light, but he was watching 
Zanaka carefully. 

Zanaka indicated the companionway leading 
to the cabin with an expressive gesture. 

“She is very beautiful,” he said insolently. 
For the first time Montgomery allowed himself 
to show annoyance. He faced Zanaka abruptly 

“What do you know about beauty? he said 
angrily, “and what is it to you whether she is 
beautiful or not, or whether I find her so?” 

Zanaka’s eyes narrowed and he clasped his 
hands convulsively before him. He spoke 
fiercely, and with great rapidity, though his 
tone was low. 

“You will try to save her,” he said. “It will 
not be the first time that fair faces have made 
men traitors. But you shall not save her. 
Listen! she shall be brought first to the king, 
and she shall be first condemned, for I will ask 
it of him. Shall there be another rival to 
Yharja? Will she endure it and not curse the 
land anew? She shall be condemned first and 
her father after. ” 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


103 


“Hush! speak lower, you fool,” said Mont- 
gomery. 

He had caught sight of Miss Cajelnar who was 
coming up the companion way to the deck. 
Zanaka saw her also now, and the expression of 
savage hatred deepened upon his face as he 
slunk silently away. Julia had drawn back as 
she saw Montgomery, but he advanced toward 
her with easy freedom. 

“You are wise to come on deck,” he said 
lightly to her, “for it is terribly hot below; up 
here, there is almost a breeze.” 

They walked to the rail on the side away from 
the lighter and the noise of the unloading of the 
cargo. The moon was shining full and clear, 
and to the west the headland of Cerro stood out 
huge and majestic in contrast with the low-lying 
coast line. An old Spanish fort below it frowned 
distrustfully upon them across the waters. 

The girl was not in a mood for conversation 
and for a long time she stood leaning upon the 
rail without, apparently, taking note of Mont- 
gomery ’s presence. Presently there was the sound 
of the lighter moving away from the steamer. 
The last of the cargo had been taken off. 

“Ah, we are clear at last,” said Montgomery. 

“Shall we sail to-night?” asked the girl. 

“No, we cannot. The custom house will not 


104 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


allow it. We cannot get away until noon to- 
morrow probably.” 

“I am glad,” said the girl, ”1 wish to go 
ashore in the morning.” She looked up at him 
brightly, pleased at the thought. 

He moved a trifle nearer her, watching her face 
in the moonlight. 

”1 also am glad,” he said. 

She was looking away again toward the tower- 
ing headlands, and scarcely heard him. But he 
drew nearer still, and continued in a low, insist- 
ent tone : 

”1 am glad because it means that this voyage 
will be one day longer; that I shall be near you 
one day more,” he said. 

Still she did not seem to hear him. 

“And you are so beautiful,” he said. 

She answered him now, but without changing 
her position or looking toward him. She spoke 
lightly. 

“And you,” she said, “are — impertinent.” 

He frowned at her words, but went on in his 
low, insistent tone. 

“Why do you say that?” he said. “Why is 
it not permitted to me to tell you that you are 
beautiful? Why not since' — I love you?” 

The girl drew away from him. 

‘Hush,” she said coldly; “this is folly.” 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


105 


“Folly or not, it is true,” said Montgomery 
passionately. “No, you must listen to me; you 
shall not go away.” 

The girl had attempted to turn to go to the 
cabin where her father was, but Montgomery 
barred the way. 

“Let mo pass,” she said with determination. 

“First listen to me, I will not let you go.” 

She tried to dodge by him, but he seized her 
arm and held her. 

“Listen,” he said boldly, “you think you 
can slight me, turn me off. But I warn you, you 
are in great danger and I alone can save you.” 

She looked at him for a breathless moment, her 
dark eyes big with contempt and aversion. 

“Let me go,” she said. “If I were in danger, 
I would perish rather than be saved by such as 
you.” 

She wrenched herself free and disappeared into 
the cabin. Montgomery watched her as she 
went. 

“I believe she would,” he muttered. But if 
the thought brought with it regret or remorse it 
had vanished in a moment, for he stopped Zanaka 
as he passed him and spoke to him in an under- 
tone. 

“It will be time enough to act when we are 
out of this harbor,” Montgomery said. 


106 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


Zanaka nodded. “Yes, but not later,’ * he 
said. 

Early the next morning a boat was sent ashore 
with an officer of the steamer, to comply with 
some of the numerous customs regulations, and 
Julia went with it. 

She left the ship’s officer at the wharf and 
walked slowly up into the town. From the bay 
she had seen the tall side towers of the cathedral 
which stood on the south side of the Plaza de la 
Constitucion, opposite the senate house, the law 
courts, and the prison. In this direction she 
turned, guided by the towers. When she 
reached the Plaza de la Constitucion she entered 
the cathedral. 

No service was in progress, but in a high 
arched gallery a choir of boys practiced an 
anthem, their clear young voices swelling with 
exquisite sweetness through the vacant edifice. 
The girl entered one of the pews, and seated her- 
self to listen. 

She did not see that another person had 
entered a moment after her, but he advanced 
now and stood beside the pew where she sat. 
Presently she looked up and saw him standing 
there gazing at her. She gave a quick cry, 
with a note of joy in it. 

“Mr. Kenwood!” she exclaimed. 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONB. 


107 


He took the hand which she extended to him 
and held it gravely. 

“At last!” he said. 

Her eyes were growing big with wonder as she 
looked at him. 

He spoke rapidly. “I was with Lanier when 
your note came,” he said. “I accompanied him 
in his search for you, and when we found that 
you were gone we followed as quickly as we 
could fit out a vessel. But that gave you a long 
lead. We sighted you off the Windward Islands, 
but lost you in the storm. At Bio we discovered 
that you had left port but five hours before we 
came. ,, 

“Who is with you?” asked the girl. 

“Lanier and Mathews.” 

“They are not on shore?” 

“Yes, but they went to the custom house. 
You see, I was more fortunate.” 

She smiled brightly. 

“I wish I might see them, if only for a min- 
ute,” she said. 

“If you will wait here, perhaps I can bring 
them,” said Kenwood. But he showed no great 
enthusiasm for going. She was smiling and 
looking up at him with her wonderful eyes. 

“Yes, you might bring them here,” she said 
dreamily. 


108 


A FIGIIT FOR A THRONE. 


Still he did not move. 

“But first tell me of your father, of y ourself,’ * 
he said eagerly. 

“All is well with us. You know that I share 
my father’s wish to return to Yajoha?” 

“Yes, I know. Do you believe that they will 
receive him?” 

“Zanaka and Montgomery declare^it. Zanaka 
is the second in the priesthood, and his influence 
is great.” 

“But is he acting honestly?” 

“I do not know. I distrust him, but I have 
no reason for it.” 

“You distrust him, and yet you go?” he said. 

“With my father, yes,” she said simply. 
“With my father and to his people.” 

As he looked at her a great longing to save her 
from the sacrifice which she was making gained 
control of him. For a space he forgot his own 
duty, his own resolution, and spoke to her earn- 
estly, almost passionately, urging her to give up 
her determination and, with Lanier, to return. 
By force, at sea, he told her — for he spoke quite 
wildly, they would rescue her father and together 
they would return, abandoning the mad enter- 
prise upon which they had embarked. He said 
nothing of himself, but she understood him and 
only smiled, shaking her head. 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


109 


She raised her eyes to his as he finished speak- 
ing, and something in her clear gaze rebuked 
him, and the knowledge of his duty and of hers 
returned. 

“Forgive me,” he said shamefacedly. 

“You would do as I am doing,” she said 
softly. 

“Yes,” he answered. 

There was a long silence, broken by Kenwood. 
“Listen,” he ssaid, “for we do not know when 
we shall meet again. From now until the end 
we will be near you constantly. When you 
reach Yajoha, we will be there also. All that 
can be done to protect your father and you we 
will do, if it comes to that. But this is my 
duty, as well as yours. I cannot explain to you 
why but it is my duty, and I shall fulfill it.” 

But she looked at him in sudden alarm. 

“No, no,” she said, “you must not risk your 
life in this enterprise. I have a right to offer up 
my own, but — yours — ” she paused, and the 
color showed suddenly beneath her clear dark 
skin. 

And now to Kenwood there came an over- 
whelming impulse, so strong that in its great 
flood it swept away every circumstance and con- 
sideration save that he stood in the presence of 
this glorious girl and that he loved her. 


110 


a Fight for a throne. 


He leaned over toward her, and she raised her 
beautiful dark eyes to his. 

“I love you, I love you,” he whispered. 

She listened, breathless. 

“You are my life, and my life is yours. How 
should I not be near you in danger, to aid, to 
protect, perhaps with you to die?” 

There was a breathless pause, and for a mo- 
ment she turned her head away. But presently 
she looked up at him again, a soft, sweet light in 
her eyes. 

“You should be near,” she whispered. 

They said no more; there was no need. 

But now looking up, Kenwood beheld Mont- 
gomery standing in the aisle near the doorway. 
He was smiling in his cool, indifferent way, but 
he stood there waiting. 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


in 


CHAPTER XI. 

CAPTIVES. 

As he saw Montgomery standing there Ken- 
wood gave an exclamation of surprise and dis- 
may. He had not wished Montgomery and his 
party to know that he was following them. The 
exclamation drew the girl’s attention in the di- 
rection toward which Kenwood was looking, and 
she also saw Montgomery. But if his presence 
annoyed her, she gave no sign. She walked 
down the aisle, Kenwood following her, and 
would have passed Montgomery with a cold nod 
of recognition, but he stopped her. 

“We are only awaiting your return, to set sail, ” 
he said in deferential tones. “You were intend- 
ing to return?” He glanced at Kenwood mock- 
ingly. 

Kenwood’s hands closed convulsively until his 
finger nails cut into the palms of his hands, but 
he said nothing, passing out behind Miss Cajel- 
nar. Once outside the girl held out her hand to 
Kenwood and he took it and held it, unwilling 
to let her go. 


112 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


“Remember/’ be said, “I shall be near you 
always, until the end.” 

“ Yes, yes, I will remember.” 

Thus they stood for a space, each dreading 
the parting, each knowing that it must be. 
Presently she withdrew her hand slowly. 

“My love, my love!” he whispered. 

Her eyes were full of tears, and she could not 
speak. She made a pitiful, tender little gesture, 
and turned away. With a heavy heart he 
watched her as she disappeared in the direction 
of the wharf. 

Yet, if his heart was heavy, there was joy there 
also. She loved him. In this strange land 
parting with her with the knowledge that before 
they met again untold dangers might befall, in 
the face of the mad enterprise to which she had 
given herself, with his own duty and responsi- 
bility before him, Kenwood felt that above and 
beyond all rose the fact that she loved him. For 
a moment joy in the present, and hope for their 
future, drove dread and anxiety from his mind. 
He moved forward with a buoyant step to rejoin 
his companions. 

When Kenwood, the ex-consul, and Mathews, 
standing on the beach of Water Island witnessed 
the departure of the steamer upon which Cajel- 
nar and his daughter had embarked, they wasted 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


113 


little time in vain distresses, but hastened back 
to the city, where, by rare good fortune, Kenwood 
stumbled upon an opportunity to take into his 
service an excellent sea-going yacht, of large 
dimensions and considerable speed. The work 
of fitting the vessel with such supplies and appli- 
ances as were necessary for an extended cruise 
began at once, and was pursued with the utmost 
rapidity; but, do what they would, the delay 
seemed almost endless to the impatient men. 
From a harbor pilot they learned the name of the 
vessel in which Cajelnar had embarked and at 
the custom house they discovered that she had 
cleared with cargo and passengers for Mon- 
tevideo. As soon as possible the three men set 
out, cruising down the coast at good speed. 

Their departure had been somewhat curiously 
delayed by Mathews, who was strangely absent 
when the time for setting sail arrived. They 
waited for him during several long and impa- 
tient hours. When he did arrive he was accom- 
panied by an express wagon, half-filled with 
boxes. The loading of these upon the yacht and 
into his own stateroom was accomplished under 
his personal supervision. 

The cruise down the coast had been without 
incident, and it was not until the Windward 
Islands were reached that they sighted the vessel 


114 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


which they were pursuing. They kept her 
within view a part of one day, but one of the 
hurricanes for which the West Indies are noted, 
came up suddenly, and the ships were driven 
apart. The Occident touched at Rio de Janeiro 
but departed five hours before the arrival there 
of Kenwood and his party on board the Valiant. 
From Rio they continued their voyage of pur- 
suit, and anchored off Montevideo after ascer- 
taining that the Occident was still in the harbor 
there. The Valiant did not enter the harbor, 
riding at anchor outside. Lanier and Mathews 
came ashore with Kenwood on the morning of 
his meeting with Miss Cajelnar in the old cathe- 
dral, but the men had separated on different 
errands, and Kenwood had been alone when, so 
suddenly that his heart almost stopped beating, 
he saw the girl walk slowly along the south side 
of Plaza de la Constitucion and enter the edifice. 
He had followed her without a moment’s hesita- 
tion, and the scenes which have just been 
described followed. 

Soon after Miss Cajelnar’s return the Occi- 
dent steamed out of the bay and headed again to 
the southward. By nightfall the vessel was out 
of sight of the land, and had begun the long cruise 
of the Patagonian coast. And now the attitude 
of those on board the steamer toward Cajelnar 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


115 


and his daughter changed. Zanaka lost his ser- 
vile manner as if by magic. Montgomery ’slcool in- 
difference changed also, and he went about with 
a smile of satisfaction and triumph upon his face. 

The next morning Cajelnar had finished his 
breakfast and, coming into the cabin from the 
dining room, moved toward the companion way 
intending to go on deck. Immediately the 
passage was barred by the native who had 
accompanied Zanaka during the period of the 
negotiations. 

“Excellency,” he said, showing his teeth iron- 
ically. 

“Out of my way,” ordered Cajelnar, his eyes 
blazing. 

The native did not move. He was a man of 
tremendous stature and his huge body com- 
pletely barred the companion way. He made no 
response to Cajelnar’s demand, but stood there, 
blocking the way, and looking at the ex-king 
with a mocking smile. 

“What is the meaning of this?” demanded 
Cajelnar. 

The native did not know. Father Zanaka had 
ordered that neither the king — the fellow spoke 
with an exaggeration of politeness — nor the prin- 
cess, should be allowed to go on deck. They 
were to be a permitted the freedom of the cabin. 
This was for the present, the native added. 


116 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


“Father Zanaka ordered it?” demanded Cajel- 
nar, shaking with anger. 

“Yes, excellency/ * 

“Then send him here.” 

The burly native did not move, but at this 
moment Zanaka descended and entered the cabin. 
Although he had abandoned his servile attitude, 
he was apologetic. 

His excellency must understand, he said, that 
there were certain formalities which must be gone 
through before he could be restored to his former 
position as ruler of the island of Yajoha. His 
long absence, as well as other circumstances, 
made this imperative. Zanaka’s duty was to 
present Cajelnar to the acting ruler of Yajoha, 
when ample justice would be done. 

This did not explain the detention below 
deck, and when this was pointed out by Cajelnar, 
Zanaka continued, still apologetically. His ex- 
cellency must know, then, that certain persons 
who had sought to prevent his return to Yajoha 
had been seen at Montevideo, having followed the 
Occident from the North, and even now their 
yacht could be see to the eastward cruising along 
at a pace which made it evident that she was 
pursuing the steamer, for, by her superior speed, 
the yacht might easily leave them far astern 
if she desired to do so. It was deemed best 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


117 


that his excellency and the princess should 
not communicate, by signal or otherwise, with 
these persons. 

Cajelnar was almost beside himself with rage 
at the cool assumption of Zanaka, but the latter 
was unmoved. Protest and command were alike 
useless. Cajelnar finally retired in silence to a 
distant end of the cabin where he remained dur- 
ing the greater part of the day. His daughter, 
now sure that her worst fears were about to be 
realized, sought to comfort him as best she could. 
Montgomery did not appear during the day. 

On the following day a similar scene was en- 
acted. Montgomery still kept out of view. 
After nightfall on the second day, however, 
Cajelnar having retired to his stateroom, Mont- 
gomery appeared. Julia was still in the cabin, 
trying to read. Montgomery came up to her, 
and spoke to her familiarly. 

“Come up on deck with me,” he said, “I want 
to talk with you.” 

The girl looked up with surprise. 

“It is not permitted,” she said, her lip curling. 

He fixed his eyes upon her with a curious gaze ; 
there was amusement and insolence in it, and 
yet there was something else. 

“It is permitted, if I wish it,” he said. 

“Then you are responsible for the indignity 
which is being heaped upon my father?” 


118 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


Montgomery shrugged his shoulders. “No, I 
am not exactly responsible/ * he said. “Zanaka 
ordered it; he has his own views.’ * 

“But you could prevent it?’* 

“Yes, certainly.’* 

“You will do so?’’ 

“Yes, on condition.’* 

“I do not understand you.’* 

“Yet I told you something only a few days 
ago which should help you to understand,’’ he 
said, looking at her boldly. 

“Oh, that!” she cried, drawing back. 
“Exactly.” 

The girl regarded him with horror-stricken 
eyes. She saw that she was in the power of this 
man ; that her own fate, and the fate of her father 
rested in his hands. He began to speak now 
with earnestness. 

“You see,” he said, “that you were not so 
wise when you said that you would perish rather 
than escape your danger by my aid, for that is 
precisely the problem that may be presented to 
you. I am in control here. Do you know what 
they are doing with your father?” 

The girl made no answer, still looking at him 
with her great dark, horror-stricken eyes. Mont- 
gomery went on : 

“They are taking him back to deliver him over 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


119 


to the Priest of Yharja, who is king. Poor fool, 
he thought the people wanted him to return. 
God! they would tear him to pieces, if the priest 
said the word, and he will say the word unless I 
prevent him. ” 

The cool villainy of his words and tone were 
•more than the girl could comprehend. 

“Are you human!” she gasped. 

He laughed lightly. “Or a fiend, you think,” 
he said. “Well, human, perhaps, since I love 
you.” 

The girl vouchsafed no reply, and there was 
silence for a space. 

“Come,” said Montgomery at length. “I 
can place your father on his throne again, and 
win for him honor and welcome from his peo- 
ple.” 

“Ah, if you could, and would.” 

“I can and will, on condition.” 

There was a long silence, the man waiting, the 
girl thinking rapidly. 

“What is the condition?” she asked finally. 

“Now you are sensible!” he said. He drew 
nearer to her as he spoke and placed one hand 
familiarly upon her shoulder. 

“My condition is — you,” he said, stooping 
low and looking into her face with burning eyes. 

The girl sprang to her feet and shook him off 
as if he were some poisonous thing. 


120 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


“I would not do it, if you already had your 
knife at nay father’s throat, ” she said. “Do you 
think that I am afraid ? Do what you can do, 
but seek no more to make your vile bargain with 
me. No suffering that you could bring upon me, 
none even that you could bring upon my father, 
could induce me to yield to you.” 

He laughed cynically. 

“So you say now,” he said. 

She made no reply, but walked slowly to her 
stateroom and left him. 

As she disappeared Zanaka thrust his head in- 
side the doorway, showed his teeth unpleasantly, 
and moved away. 

“Fair faces have made traitors before now,” 
he muttered. 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


121 


CHAPTER XII. 

AN ORATOR AND THE RESULT OF HIS ORATION. 

Yajoha, the principal island of a group in that 
vast region known as Polynesia is, like its neigh- 
bors and according to the well-founded conjecture 
of science, of volcanic origin. From a central 
peak of no great height the land slopes 
gently shoreward, A coral reef fringes the 
coast at some distance from the shore, and 
within, between the reef and the beach, there is 
a lagoon-like stretch of still water. The reef is 
broken in the center on the eastward side of the 
island, and opposite the beach, upon the island, 
a fresh water stream flows gently from the higher 
interior. The town or village of Yajoha is situ- 
ated upon the north of this stream. The break 
in the reef is large enough to permit the entrance 
of a small vessel. The climate of the island is 
hot and moist, and the vegetation is rich. From 
shore to summit the island is clothed in a deep 
cloak of the most luxuriant verdure. Even upon 
the rocks which stand out here and there upon 


122 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


the hillside, ferns, club-mosses and even small 
shrubs grow plentifully. To the south of the 
stream, on the low land near the shore there is a 
grove of cocoanut palms, cool and shady and 
delightful. Within this grove, which in a degree 
is sacred, stands the temple of Yharja, rebuilded 
now, and within it the shrine has been restored. 
The town shows a curious combination of sav- 
agery and civilization. A few modern buildings, 
built partly of stone, partly of wood from the 
groves, stand upon the outskirts, above the old 
town, where are the rude huts of the natives. 

The passage around the Horn had been a 
stormy one, and the steamer Occident showed 
plainly the signs of the weather and the buffeting 
which she had encountered when, one fine, clear 
morning, she hove to beyond the reef and 
dropped her anchor. Some of the ^natives, hav- 
ing seen the steamer approaching and being of 
a turn of mind easily excited by curiosity, put 
out toward her in their canoes ; but those who 
came within hearing distance turned suddenly 
back at a word from Zanaka. Presently a boat 
was launched from the steamer, and Zanaka and 
Montgomery came ashore. A crowd of natives, 
men and women, gathered near the landing 
place, though at a respectful distance, and as the 
two men came ashore the natives bowed them- 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


123 


selves low, doing honors after the customs of 
the island. Zanaka and Montgomery proceeded 
at once to the residence of the Priest of Ykarja, 
the ruler of the island. There they remained 
for a long time, in consultation. 

During the passage around Cape Horn and 
from the Chilian coast to the island of Yajoha 
the treatment accorded to Cajelnar and his 
daughter by their captors — for it was soon evi- 
dent that they were as surely prisoners as if they 
had been confined in a dungeon — had been char- 
acterized by increasing restraint, though strict 
care had been taken both by Montgomery and 
Zanaka to guard the physical comfort of both 
the man and the girl. Except during the storm, 
when it had seemed necessary to allow them a 
greater freedom, the conspirators had sought as 
much as possible to keep father and daughter 
separate. For several days before Yajoha was 
sighted, the two were confined to their state- 
rooms, under lock and key. 

Cajelnar accepted his captivity, after the first 
few days, in silence. It was significant of the 
motive which had led him to embark upon the 
enterprise, that through it all, despite the indig- 
nities which were heaped upon him, he main- 
tained the proud demeanor which had returned to 
him in the hour of his final determination. Not 


124 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


even when Julia sought to comfort him with 
gentle, tender words did he sink back into that 
attitude of helpless, hopeless endurance which 
had marked him as a broken and disappointed 
man during the later years of his long exile. 
That the men in whom he had trusted were 
traitors to him, he no longer doubted ; but he 
had done his part, he had cast his life into the 
balance for them. Whatever the result, he had 
played the part of a man and a king. Therefore 
he held his head high, and answered their in- 
sults with silence. 

Once or twice Montgomery had sought to 
renew his offer to Julia but she repelled him with 
such vehemence that for the most part he let her 
alone, though she was always conscious that he 
was watching her, waiting for the time when she 
should be ready to yield. 

But the time, she knew, never would come, 
whatever else the future held in store. It was not 
only that, because she was young and full of life 
and energy, hope refused to leave her, and that, 
without knowing the method of it, she could not 
but believe that deliverance was possible, though 
not certain or even probable ; besides this she 
was conscious that neither her duty to her 
father, nor to the people of Yajoha, demanded 
that she should yield. Her mind acted strongly, 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


125 


with a direct, vigorous understanding, which 
threw off quickly the specious impulse which, to 
a weaker person, might have seemed to point a 
worthy, a holy martyrdom. She had, indeed, 
more the spirit of the warrior than of the martyr. 
With both she shared a willingness to die for 
her cause, but with the former she shared also 
the longing, the determination, to die where the 
fight was thickest, striking as long as strength 
lasted, yielding to death alone. 

When the consultation at the house of the 
Priest of Yharja was concluded Zanaka came out 
alone. Before him he gathered a group of young 
men, natives, who wore ornaments indicating 
that they were couriers. He spoke to them for 
a few moments, after which they hurried away, 
scattering in all directions. Soon the town, 
which up to this time had been comparatively 
quiet, began to swarm with dusky natives. They 
centered at the public square, questioning each 
other and wagging their heads. 

Zanaka, meanwhile, had returned to the 
steamer. When the people saw him returning 
half an hour later in a boat which contained two 
other figures also, they would have rushed pell- 
mell to the landing, but the couriers, who seemed 
also to be the guardians of the peace, restrained 
them and they remained in the vicinity of the 


1 26 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


square. Despite the impatience of the people 
the control which the couriers maintained over 
them was excellent, and Zanaka was allowed to 
land with his captives, Cajelnar and his daugh- 
ter, without molestation. They walked silently 
to the palace, a guard, led by Zanaka’s compan- 
ion, following in their wake. Cajelnar’s hands 
were bound behind his back. On the wrist of 
Julia’s left arm a heavy band had been clasped; 
to this a short chain was attached and the end 
fastened to the cords which held Cajelnar’s 
hands together. 

They entered the palace and there remained 
for a long time, while the crowd at the public 
square grew to larger proportions, the impa- 
tience of the people meanwhile increasing 
rapidly. 

When everything was in readiness a proces- 
sion was formed at the palace, and moved slowly 
toward the square. First came the Priest of 
Yharja, the wonderful arrangement of his head- 
dress marking him as the chief personage in all 
the gathering, and by his side, Zanaka, whose 
sour and swarthy visage was now expressive of 
the keenest satisfaction and delight. Behind 
them walked distinguished persons from the 
household of the priest, their sacred offices indi- 
cated by the ornaments which they wore and by 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


127 


the manner of their headdress. Next came the 
chief officials of the village; then the captives, 
followed by the guard. 

Montgomery was not present. He remained 
within the palace. 

In the center of the square there was a stone 
platform ornamented only by an upright pillar 
upon which there was an inscription done in 
rude, irregular characters. To this platform the 
procession made its way slowly, the people 
separating to allow a passageway, then closing in 
again, so that when the officials reached the plat- 
form they were completely surrounded by the 
dusky horde. 

The priest or king seated himself in the center 
of the platform, the others finding places near 
him, each according to his rank. The guard closed 
around the captives to the rear. There was a 
beating of some curious instrument, like, but 
unlike, a drum, and then the ceremony began. 

First the Priest of Yharja spoke. He did not 
rise, and his words seemed purely formal, 
for the people paid little heed, though they were 
silent most respectfully. 

Then up rose Zanaka, tall, spare of figure, his 
keen eyes flashing with energy and excitement. 
In a moment the people closed inward, watching 
him eagerly. His reputation as an orator must 


128 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


already Lave been established, for the people 
seemed to know that he would stir them; already 
they felt his power, and a shiver like the moving 
of leaves in the forest when the wind blows fit- 
fully, passed over the assemblage. 

Zanaka was a true orator. There was nothing 
spectacular or exaggerated in his manner. He 
began to speak quite easily, in a low, clear voice. 

The people listened breathlessly. Soon every 
gesture which the speaker made, every change in 
the tone of his voice, were reflected by his hear- 
ers. He had not spoken five minutes before it 
was evident that he would have his will with 
them. But he spoke on, his earnestness and 
eloquence increasing as he proceeded. 

When Zanaka had done, the priest motioned to 
the leader of the guard and he led Cajelnar for- 
ward; Julia, still held by the band about her 
wrist, behind him. They both stood proudly, 
their heads held high. 

“Speak,” said the priest to Cajelnar. 

There was a moment of extreme interest and 
curiosity among the people. 

Cajelnar was silent. 

“Speak,” repeated the priest. His tone was 
not one of command, but rather of permission. 

Cajelnar held his head a trifle higher. 

“Iam king,” he said. “It is not fit that I 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


m 


should address the people/* This was accord- 
ing to a custom of Yajoha. No ruler ever took 
the place of advocate or orator. 

There was a gleaming of teeth among the as- 
sembled natives; some seemed to approve Gajel- 
nar’s action; others were amused by it. 

Meanwhile Julia, nothing daunted, would have 
spoken in defense of her father, but he stopped 
her with a quick look and a word. 

Probably some crude ideas of formal justice 
were satisfied by this ceremony, but from the 
moment of the beginning of it there never was 
any doubt as to the result. The question of con- 
demnation seemed, indeed, to be submitted to 
the people ; but swayed by such an orator as 
Zanaka their verdict was not uncertain. 

Cajelnar and his daughter were condemned— 
to death the priest said in pronouncing sentence. 
The manner of their death he did not indicate, 
but the people seemed to understand. Now the 
captives were led away, not this time to the 
palace, but across the stream, which was spanned 
by a rude bridge of palm wood, to the grove 
near the temple. The priest and Zanaka, fol- 
lowed by the other officers, returned to the 
palace and the crowed slowly dispersed. 

Cajelnar and his daughter were now separated, 
and taken to two houses or huts within the 


130 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


grove. Here the guard was increased, but within 
the circle of their keepers they were allowed 
their freedom. Two native girls took their 
places within the hut occupied by Julia, and 
offered to her such service as she required. 

During the ordeal through which she had 
passed the girl had borne herself with a dignity 
and pride the counterpart of that displayed by 
the father. But now that she was beyond the 
gaze of the people, the grief and dread which 
oppressed her was, for the moment, almost over- 
powering. She motioned to the two native girls 
to leave her, and with looks of sympathy, they 
left the hut, crouching within call near the 
entrance. 

Julia threw herself upon a couch of some soft, 
fibrous material which had been prepared for 
her. But despite the dread and the fear there 
were thoughts which strengthened and supported 
her still. Her heart beat quicker with an exul- 
tant pride when she thought of the kingly dig- 
nity which her father had shown before the 
people during the mockery of a trial. She could 
not find even now in her heart a regret that he 
had come, and that she had come with him. 

And hope, too, found its place in her heart, 
for she was not one to give herself over to long 
despair. As she lay there alone in the hut, the 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


131 


remembrance of Kenwood’s words came to her, 
cheering her, not so much by the hope they 
brought as by the wealth of love and devotion 
which she found in them. 

“Kemember, I shall be near you until the 
end,” he had whispered. 

Could he be near now, she wondered; and 
wondering she smiled, for the thought was sweet. 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 




CHAPTER XIII. 

THE ONLY CHANCE. 

It is not to be supposed that there was none in 
■Xajoha who favored Cajelnar, or at least disap- 
proved of the sentence which had been passed 
upon the ex-king and his daughter. Indeed it 
was in the fear that this element — which he had 
striven with all his might to exterminate — might 
yet prove too strong for him, that the priest of 
Yharja had sent Zanaka, his most trusted fol- 
lower, to bring Cajelnar back to his death. 
With Cajelnar out of the way the priest-ruler felt 
safe upon the throne which he had usurped. 
While the ex-king lived, his successor felt that 
daily he was in danger. His plan of bringing 
the ex-king back resulted from the discovery that 
already some of the natives were holding com- 
munication with Cajelnar. The priest promptly 
executed the conspirators and continuing the 
correspondence through Zanaka lured Cajelnar 
on to his doom. 

But, during the mockery of a trial in the public 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


133 


square, no voice had been raised in Cajelnar’s 
favor, and during the interval between the con- 
demnation and the day set for the execution of 
the sentences, none but his keepers came near 
him. Yet he was treated with a certain consid- 
eration, as was his daughter, and suffered no 
personal indignity save his imprisonment. This 
was true also of Julia; indeed the two girls who 
had been allowed to remain with her seemed to 
regard her with affectionate sympathy. 

In one thing only Zanaka had failed. He had 
sought to have the execution of the girl fixed to 
take place first, but the priest had refused to 
consent to this plan. He did not share Zanaka’s 
intense hatred of the girl, though he was willing 
enough to get her out of the way. Zanaka’s 
hatred sprang from a source in which the priest 
did not share. 

A week passed swiftly, and only three days 
remained before the day set for the execution. 
As the days followed each other Julia Cajelnar 
gradually abandoned hope of relief and now she 
awaited her fate with characteristic fortitude. 
For a day or two after the beginning of her 
imprisonment in the palm grove she had half- 
expected, not that Kenwood would save her 
and her father, for she allowed herself no 
hope so wild, but that in some way she would 


134 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


hear of him, would know that he was near. But 
as time went by and nothing indicated his pres- 
ence, she began to fear that he had met with 
disaster, perhaps death, while seeking to aid 
her, and so in her thoughts of him she found but 
a pitiful comfort. She knew that if he had 
failed it had been because strength to follow her 
had failed. She never for an instant doubted 
his devotion and his faith. 

From the position of her prison hut in the 
grove it was not possible to see the ocean beyond 
the reef, but on the fourth day before that fixed 
for the execution the girl noticed a peculiar ex- 
citement among the keepers and guards about 
her. When she had an opportunity, she asked 
one of the native girls about it. 

“A steamer has anchored just beyond the 
reef,” the girl told her. 

Julia’s heart leaped to her throat, but she 
strove to conceal her interest. 

“There was one there already,” she said. 

“The black one?” 

“Yes.” 

“It sailed away — days ago,” said the girl, 
volubly. “This is another. It is white.” 

“From where did it come?” Julia asked. 

The girl did not know. The white steamer 
had been there at anchor when the morning 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


135 


broke. It must have arrived in the night. 
Some of the natives had gone out toward it in 
their canoes, but they had not been able to see 
any one except a few sailors, and had returned. 

Later in the day the girl came running up 
with great news. A boat had been lowered from 
the steamer and was approaching the shore. It 
contained three men. The priest at the palace 
was preparing to receive them. 

After leaving Montevideo the Valiant kept for 
many days in the wake of the steamer which 
bore Cajelnar and his daughter, but when Cape 
Horn was reached the ships encountered a ter- 
rible storm. The Occident, much larger than 
the Valiant and better able to stand the fearful 
buffeting of the waves, had ridden the tempest 
out with little difficulty, although she, indeed, 
had sustained some damage. But the Valiant had 
been for a time in actual danger of foundering. 
She had been driven from her course, and when 
the storm subsided it found her far away to the 
southward. She was obliged to lay to for several 
days for repairs. 

Under such conditions as these the state of 
mind of the three passengers, Kenwood, Lanier, 
and Mathews, was one well approaching despair. 
When the3 r arrived off Yajoha it was with the 
terrible fear that they might be too late, and 


136 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


that the fate of Cajelnar and his daughter might 
already have been determined and carried out. 

They arrived off Yajoha during the night. It 
was easy to see that everything was quiet on the 
island, and they thought best to wait for the 
morning before beginning to act. It had been 
decided that as soon as it was possible after the 
breaking of dawn, Kenwood and Mathews [should 
go ashore, in the most formal and open manner 
and, if they found, as they feared, that Cajelnar 
had not been welcomed in the manner which had 
been promised him, make a demand for informa- 
tion concerning him ; for his release if he had 
been imprisoned. 

This plan was carried out. The two men were 
received at the boat landing by an escort of 
natives, and conducted with a great show of 
respect to the palace. There they were received 
by the Priest of Yharja, Zanaka, and Montgom- 
ery. Kenwood acted as spokesman, addressing 
Zanaka, who interpreted to the priest. Mont- 
gomery took little part in the interview, though 
he listened attentively, and once or twice cor- 
rected or assisted Zanaka in his interpretation of 
Kenwood’s words. 

If Kenwood had hoped to intimidate the ruler 
of Yajoha, he soon found how futile his plan 
had been. The priest frankly admitted that 


137 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 

Cajelnar and his daughter were on the island, 
that they were under restraint, and that they 
were to be executed. He pointed out that the 
ex-king had returned of his own will, and that 
both he and his daughter were subject to the 
laws of their native country. 

To Kenwood’s appeal for the release of Cajel- 
nar the priest turned a more attentive ear. 
Keuwood hinted at ransom, and for a moment 
the usurper seemed to hesitate. Suddenly he 
turned to one of his attendants. 

* ‘Bring him here,” he said. 

Cajelnar was brought to the palace, his hands 
again fastened behind his back. A gleam of 
recognition and interest shone in his eye for a 
moment as he saw Mathews, but he said nothing. 
He still held his head high, with a look of pride 
upon his face, and he stood tall, erect, and de- 
termined. 

To him the priest now spoke in their native 
tongue. Kenwood and Mathews, neither of 
whom could understand what was being said, 
watched the men intently. But whatever it was 
that the priest was saying, it made no impression 
upon Peter Cajelnar. Once or twice he seemed 
to try with a vehement protest to cut the usurper 
short, but the priest continued, apparently mak- 
ing some oiler to Cajelnar, AYhen he had done* 


138 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


the ex-king answered, and Zanaka, turning with 
a smile of triumph to Kenwood, interpreted : 

“He says that he would not leave this island, 
even if it were possible,” said Zanaka. “He 
seeks to be restored to the throne of Yajoha or 
to die.” 

The traitorous old villain interpreted these 
words of Cajelnar’s without a tremor. Mont- 
gomery, who understood the words as well as the 
interpretation, listened to Zanaka as he spoke. 

“And he is like to be accommodated in the 
latter,” Montgomery said, as Zanaka finished. 

After this there was little to be said. Ken- 
wood’and his companions returned to their boat. 
From a chance remark that some one had 
dropped they had learned that the time of the 
execution was yet three days distant. 

“There is a great deal that may be done in 
three days,” observed Mathews, as they put off 
for the Valiant. He saw that Kenwood was 
dejected, and he strove to be cheerful. 

“There must be some way to save them,” he 
added. 

“There is — or to die with them,” said Ken- 
wood. 

“I think we won’t die,” said Mathews, 
“though I wouldn’t run, you know,” he added 
after a pause. 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


139 


When they reported their interview with the 
priest to Lanier together with Cajelnar *s refusal 
to accept the release that the usurper had ap- 
parently offered to him, the ex-consul shook his 
head gravely. 

“We could set them free — perhaps/’ he said. 
“But the trouble is, poor Peter Cajelnar would 
not come.” 

“We can carry him away/* said Mathews. 

The ex-consul smiled. “Perhaps/* he said. 

Kenwood was pacing up and down the cabin, 
his brows knit, and his hands clinched. 

“I think we can make him king/* he cried, 
facing them suddenly. 

“It is our only chance,** said the ex-consul. 

“At least,’* said Kenwood, “we can try; we 
can strike a^blow. ’ * 

“Yes, we can strike a blow/’ said Lanier. 

“The sooner the better,** said Mathews. 

The visit of Kenwood and Mathews to the 
Priest of Yharja took place on Tuesday. The 
execution was to take place on Friday. Lanier, 
who was acquainted with the customs of the peo- 
ple, said that the execution would take place 
about four hours after sunset, in the palm grove, 
for Cajelnar was accused of violating the sanctity 
of the temple and the expiation was properly to 
be upon that sacred soil. 


140 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


For many hours the three men sat anxiously 
in the cabin going over the situation in all its 
details as they knew it, and seeking to hit upon 
a plan of action. One thing seemed clear, that 
they could not count upon Cajelnar’s aid in a 
programme of mere escape, nor could they hope 
to take Julia away without him, as long at least 
as the ex-king w y as alive. The idea of carrying 
Cajelnar off against his will, which Mathews had 
suggested, seemed out of the question, and after 
a brief examination of it, it was abandoned alto- 
gether, as impossible. 

They came back soon to the words of Ken- 
wood: “I believe we can make him king. ” The 
very boldness of it commended it to considera- 
tion, and indeed, it seemed the only means of 
solving the complicated riddle which confronted 
them. But how to accomplish it; here was the 
question. They were three men, with perhaps a 
score from their crew who could be depended 
upon to aid them, and against them a horde of 
savages, their numbers unknown indeed but 
reaching certainly into the thousands. 

The discussion continued for many hours but 
the plans which were arranged were only pre- 
liminary. It was soon recognized that no final 
decision could be made until the three men were 
in possession of more complete information, con- 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


141 


cerning not only the position of the prisoners, 
and the extent of their guard, but also concern- 
ing the approaches to the palace, the strength of 
the defenses there, and indeed concerning prac- 
tically the topography of the whole island, which 
Lanier, despite his residence there, was able but 
vaguely to remember. 

It was agreed that the night should be devoted 
to reconnoissance. In the meantime Mathews 
and Lanier, wearied and worn by sleepless nights 
and days of terrible anxiety and dread, threw 
themselves upon their couches for a brief rest 
before the labors of the night. Kenwood, al- 
though worn out and in need of sleep, could 
not join them. He went on deck and paced 
back and forward, his mind keenly at work, 
for he was arranging in his mind the details 
of a plan so bold that its very audacity seemed 
to augur its success. 


142 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


CHAPTER XIV 

THE EVIL OF THE USE OF STIMULANTS BY A NATIVE GUARD. 

During the week following their arrival at 
Yajoha, Montgomery had made no attempt to 
place himself in communication with Julia, but 
now as the day of the execution drew near he 
was moved by an increasing impulse to see her. 
His power over the Priest of Yharja was not un- 
limited, though it was considerable. He also had 
a personal following among the members of a 
sacred order, called Llamhi. It seemed possible 
that even yet, if Julia would accede to his 
designs, he might be able to save her. The 
chief danger in such an undertaking, he knew, 
came from Zanaka who watched him with eyes 
of suspicion. Zanaka’s power with the natives 
and with the priest was very great, and Mont- 
gomery dared not give him an opportunity for 
open and direct hostility. Yet Montgomery was 
not a man to take great heed of hazards. If he 
dared not go openly, he made no matter of going 
secretly, though the immediate personal danger 
was far greater thus. If he had gone openly, 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


143 


had interceded for the girl before the priest of 
Yharja, Zanaka might ultimately have defeated 
his objects, and undermined his power and posi- 
tion; but going to her secretly, he was at the 
mercy of the first guard, courting bullet, knife, 
and cudgel. Yet he chose to go secretly, per- 
haps because he hoped to bargain with her. 

He set out at about 10 o’clock on the night of 
the visit of Kenwood and Mathews to the palace. 
He made his way by a circuitous route to the 
sacred palm grove, crossing the stream by means 
of a canoe far above the bridge, and moving 
stealthily from tree to tree toward the vicinity of 
the hut where Julia Cajelnar was imprisoned. 
The night was warm and very dark. The fire 
which often burned before the hut of a cap- 
tive, kept there by the guard which formed in a 
semicircle about the entrance, had been extin- 
guished because of the heat, and no illumination 
pierced the blackness of the grove. Yet as he 
drew near the hut Montgomery was able to make 
out some of the forms of the watchers. He 
clearly discerned the semicircular group 'near 
the entrance and at the rear three or four burly 
natives squatted on the ground. The watchers 
were sitting upright and though they were 
silent Montgomery knew that they were alert. 
It was impossible to reach the hut without at- 
tracting their attention. 


144 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE). 


Slowly, guarding against so much as the 
snapping of a twig, he crept around to the rear of 
the hut, and, making a wide circuit, approached 
the guard who was stationed at the furthermost 
corner. The man sat perhaps ten paces from 
any of his companions. Montgomery crept from 
tree to tree until with his hand he could almost 
have reached and touched the fellow. 

There was a chance, a desperate one, and 
Montgomery took it. He wore a belt in which 
he carried a heavy knife and a brace of pistols. 
One of these he drew out and with it covered the 
second nearest guard. The knife he held ready 
in his left hand. 

Then he leaned forward in the darkness and 
whispered a single word of the native tongue. 
The sound was not articulate, he breathed it 
into the darkness, and at first the guard gave no 
sign. Montgomery waited ; he knew that the 
man must have heard. Presently the guard 
moved slightly, changing the position of his 
arms. Montgomery softly returned the pistol to 
his belt, and put the knife back into its sheath. 
So far all was well. If the guard had not recog- 
nized the signal — 'Montgomery had had no means 
of knowing whether he would or not — there 
would have been a quick bullet for the second and 
the knife for the first, who would have been upon 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


145 


him too quick for a shot, and Montgomery would 
have had a fair chance of escaping among the 
trees in the darkness. But he breathed softly a 
sigh of relief as he put his pistol back. The 
guard now rose and stretched himself, then 
turned and moved leisurely in the direction from 
which he had heard the whispered word. Mont- 
gomery meanwhile retreated, plunging deeper 
into the grove. The guard followed him. 

When he came up to Montgomery and recog- 
nized him, he made a sign of respect, perhaps of 
reverence. 

Montgomery placed his hand upon the native’s 
arm and looked into his face searchingly. 

“You do well to answer promptly,” he said. 

“Yes, excellency.” 

“Your captive — you must bring her to me, 
here. I must speak with her.” 

“But, excellency — ” the man began to protest. 
His face bore an expression of fear and distress. 

“You must,” said Montgomery firmly. 

“I cannot, I cannot — ” began the man. 

“Why not?” demanded Montgomery. 

“It is impossible; I, only, am of Llamhi!” 

“But the others are of Yajoha, ” said Mont- 
gomery with a contemptuous shrug. “Here, 
wait.” 

Montgomery produced a handful of gold coins. 


146 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


The guard’s eyes glistened. “ Wait,” said Mont- 
gomery again, and he drew forth two large bot- 
tles. The guard showed his teeth. “Wait,” 
said Montgomery once more, and unsheathing 
his knife he added it to the curious collection. 

“There,” he said contemptuously, “bring her 
here.” 

“Excellency,” said the guard, this time in 
delight, not in protest. 

“I give you two hours,” said Montgomery. 

The man started to return to the hut, but 
turned suddenly. 

“She must not escape,” he said, alarm on his 
face. 

“She shall not escape — to-night,” said Mont- 
gomery. 

It was well on past midnight when Montgom- 
ery, who had waited patiently, crouching beside 
a tree, observed two figures coming toward him 
in the darkness. Thej r were proceeding without 
any great show of caution, and Montgomery 
rightly concluded^that the contents of the bottles 
which he had brought had circulated among the 
natives of the guard more freely than the coins. 
Julia Cajelnar and the guard who had responded 
to Montgomery’s signal approached. 

The girl came forward eagerly. She was 
thinking of Kenwood, of Lanier, of Mathews. 
Hope was singing in her veins. 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


147 


When she saw that it was Montgomery to 
whom she was being conducted, she drew back 
with a cry of distress and disappointment. 

“You!’* she cried. 

Montgomery shrugged his shoulders. 

‘‘I thought that even I might be better than 
that,” he said, indicating the hut. 

The girl made no reply but turned as if to go 
back. Montgomery barred her way. 

“Wait and talk to me awhile. Have you so 
many and is the time so long that I am beneath 
your notice?” he said with bitter insolence. 

And now a sudden longing to be safe and free 
again, to save her father from his doom, took pos- 
session of the girl. 

“Ah,” she cried, “you could save us if you 
would!” 

He drew nearer and spoke in a low tone, for he 
did not wish the guard to hear; he knew that he 
was promising more than, perhaps, he could per- 
form. 

“I could set you free, and your father, too,” 
he said. 

“Then set us free; I pray you, set us free.” 

“And for me?” 

“For you honor and gratitude — the thought 
of a noble deed done — a noble impulse followed 
—all that you can ask— except ” 


148 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


“Except?’ 

“What you have ashed.” 

He gave a short laugh. 

“There is nothing else I want,” he said. 

The girl shrank back, a shiver passing over her 
form. 

“Never!” she cried. 

The guard had withdrawn to a considerable 
distance. Montgomery now took a step toward 
the girl. 

“There is one other thing I want,” he said. 

“Ah,” she lifted her head, mistaking his 
meaning. 

“And I will take it,” he said, smiling cruelly. 

In an instant he had his arms around her and 
bending low would have kissed her as she strug- 
gled, but a strong arm caught him by the shoul- 
der and hurled him violently backward. The 
girl fled to the hut, the guard following her. 

Montgomery recovered himself in a moment 
and advanced toward his assailant. It was 
Mathews. The young man stood watching him, 
alert, expecting to be attacked. To attack him 
seemed indeed at first to be Montgomery’s pur- 
pose, but if it was he abandoned it, for he 
stopped short and laughed scornfully, throwing 
back the hair from his forehead with an expres- 
sive gesture. 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


149 


“You choose to interfere ?” he said to Mathews. 

“You fiend/’ said Mathews between his teeth. 

“Fair words!’’ said Montgomery. “See? I 
set you the example — I do not even wish to 
quarrel with you.’’ 

“Cur!” cried Mathews, beside himself. 

Montgomery laughed lightly. “Our conversa- 
tion will be one-sided if you keep that up. Yet 
it might pay you to talk. Listen, you wish to 
save Cajelnar’s daughter from death?” 

“From death and such as you.” 

Montgomery shrugged his shoulders. “From 
death might not be so hard,” he said. 

“Then death were better,” said Mathews, 
catching his meaning. 

“What fools you are, ’’said Montgomery, with 
a contemptuous gesture. “You only half play 
the game.” 

“But we play it fair.” 

“Fair, and you fail,” sneered Montgomery. 
“See here, I’m not over-loving toward this game 
that’s going on. I’ll join with you; we’ll put 
Cajelnar back and after — Well, we’ll fight for 
her, if you like. ” 

“She’s not for you — or yet for me,” said 
Mathews. 

“No? There is another?” 

“Another, and a better.” 


150 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


“Then it will be a merry game; ctitthroat, we 
called it on the Mississippi.’ * 

Mathews was silent. He saw that Montgomery 
might be of great use to them, and hesitated 
whether or not to trust him even slightly. 
Montgomery continued: 

“These people,’’ he said, “will follow a leader. 
Our play will be to seize the palace, cut the old 
priest’s throat, and Zanaka’s, and proclaim Cajel- 
nar. There will be a fight but I can get you into 
the palace and there are plenty who will follow 
me, and the place is strong. When it is over — 
why, then we will settle this other little matter 
at our leisure.” 

What Mathews’ answer would have been is be- 
yond the reach of the historian, for at this 
moment there was a great commotion at the 
entrance of the grove and the sound of many 
persons rushing toward the hut where Julia 
Cajelnar was imprisoned. The drunkenness of 
the guard there had been discovered. Mont- 
gomery was alert in an instant. 

“It’s death to be found here,” he said. “Run 
— you to the water — I will cut across the woods. 
Come ashore to-morrow night at 10, I’ll watch 
for your boat. Now run! they’ll kill you if 
they catch you.” And he fled deeper into 
the grove, dodging easily among the trees and 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 151 

once looking back to fling a contemptuous 
laugh at Mathews. 

Mathews made his way safely to the shore 
where he waited in his boat ready to push off if 
necessary. But presently the excitement seemed 
to die away, and in the village all was still again. 
Neither Kenwood nor Lanier had returned. The 
boat in which they had come from the yacht lay 
on the sand where they had left it. Yet in the 
vicinity of the palace there was perfect quiet. 

Presently Mathews moved out from the shore 
in his boat, but he did not turn the bow toward 
the yacht. His night’s work was not yet accom- 
plished. He headed down the lagoon, toward 
the place where the temple stood in the edge of 
the grove. 


j 


153 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


CHAPTER XV. 

A LITTLE COQUETTE. 

Meanwhile Kenwood, accompanied by Lanier, 
was making a reconnoissance of the approaches 
of the palace. Kenwood had tried to induce the 
ex-consul to remain on the yacht, but however 
little Lanier had endorsed the enterprise of 
restoration in the beginning, he now saw that in 
it alone was there escape and safety for Cajelnar 
and Julia and he was determined, despite his age, 
to do his part. The two men crept slowly along 
the shore until they reached the extreme north- 
ern end of the island. Between them and the 
palace there was a dense growth of shrubbery, 
but the ground was regular and even and they 
had little difficulty in making their way over 
it in the darkness. The ex-consul believed 
that the vicinity of the palace would be quite 
deserted on this side and he was right. The 
palace was a long, low structure, constructed 
rudely enough of stone, and around it there was 
a high stone w r all built for defense. To the 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


153 


northward this wall presented a blank, unbrok- 
en side. There was not so much as a door 
or window. The thick shrubbery grew up 
close to the stone work. Guided and sheltered 
by this wall Kenwood and Lanier felt their way 
westward to the rear of the enclosure. Finally 
they came to the corner. The wall turned at a 
right angle, and continued southward. Further 
on to the west the central summit loomed dark 
and massive. 

On this westward side the wall was built with 
equal care, but, as they crept along it, the two 
men saw that there were in it three entrance 
ways. One was large and arched, the entrance- 
space being filled by huge iron doors, presenting 
a formidable appearance. The other two en- 
trances were smaller, and their doors were of 
wood, though protected and strengthened by 
bands of iron. To the south the wall was equally 
strong. The palace itself formed the defense 
of the eastward part. 

For purposes of assault the place was prac- 
tically impregnable, yet Kenwood’s plan in- 
volved the capture of the palace. It was now 
late, and within the enclosure everything was 
quiet. Kenwood and the ex-consul had turned 
back in their search and were standing beside 
the wall to the westward, not far from one of the 
smaller entrance-ways. 


154 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


“We must take it from the front/* said Ken- 
wood. 

“We will have a try at it there/* said the ex- 
consul dryly. 

“You think success there impossible?** 

“No, improbable.** 

“Hush,** said the ex-consul suddenly, draw- 
ing nearer to the wall. There was a sound at 
the small doorway near them ; some one was at 
work with the latch. 

Presently the door opened and a man crossed 
the threshold, but lingered there. He was a 
native, but one of the more intelligent class. 
Like many, indeed most of those who were 
engaged in trade or commerce, he wore the 
dress of a European. The [man lingered at the 
doorway, speaking to some one who stood just 
inside. Lanier, who understood the language, 
translated it later to Kenwood. 

“To-morrow night?** the man said. 

“No, no, I do not dare; I do not dare.** 

The man sighed deeply, with passion. It was 
a love scene which they were witnessing. 

“The night after, then?’* he said. 

“Yes, perhaps, but I am afraid.’* 

“You do not care;** his tone was full of re- 
proach. 

“Ah, do I not? See!** She slipped out 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE, 155 

through the doorway, drawing the door nearly 
to behind her. She was a slender wisp of a girl, 
with a sweet dark face, and eyes which shone in 
the darkness. She flung an arm with charming 
abandon about the man’s neck and drew his head 
down. For a moment she pressed her cheek 
against his, and then she kissed him on the lips. 

He caught her in his arms and held her fast. 

“The night after,” he begged. 

“Yes,” she whispered. 

“You will not forget?” 

“Forget I” she looked up at him reproach- 
fully. 

“At 10 you will be at the door?” 

“Yes, at 10.” 

“Can you be sure that no one sees me enter?” 

“Yes. There will be no one near but — one, 
the one that marches up and down. But,” she 
threw back her head laughing, “I can send him 
away.” 

“He loves you,” the man said jealously. 

“Perhaps he does,” she said, laughing. 

“He thinks you care for him.” 

She laughed still more merrily. “Perhaps 
he does,” she said. “And you enter the more 
easily.” 

“You witch,” he said, delighted, kissing her. 

But now she made shift to send him away. 


156 


A FIGIIT FOR A THRONE. 


She [said it quite tenderly, so that he held her 
nearer. But she drew away from him, still laugh- 
ing. 

“I will open the door for you at 10,” she 
said. 

“I will knock twice, a double knock,” he said. 

“And I will answer — to my love,” she whis- 
pered, holding up her lips. He kissed her, and 
was gone. 

“We will not make our try from the front 
after all,” said Kenwood when Lanier translated 
to him. 

“No more we will,” said Lanier, “thanks to 
the little coquette. She is to get the guard out 
of the way, too. Did I tell you that?” 

“Unless she changes her mind and loves the 
guard by then,” said Kenwood. 

“Her heart, you mean.” 

“I said her mind.” 

“Well, it is the same thing.” 

“With her it is,” said Kenwood, laughing. 

But there was yet serious work for the two men 
to do before they returned, and now they hast- 
ened to accomplish it. They crept back again 
along the north wall, and through the shrubbery 
to the shore, and made their way cautiously 
back to their boat. They embarked at once and 
pushing down along the shore of the lagoon, 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE- 


157 


passed the entrance of the stream. They would 
have ascended the stream in their boat, but they 
found the current so strong that they could not 
propel their craft swiftly and at the same time 
silently. They were thus forced to abandon this 
project, and going back to the open lagoon, 
they moored their boat on the sand southward of 
the mouth of the stream. Then they crept 
inland, entering the grove. 

The two men moved cautiously along the bank 
of the stream until they reached the palm grove. 
Under the shelter of the trees they advanced 
until they were not far from the hut where Cajel- 
nar was imprisoned. There they found a guard 
substantially the same as that which crouched 
about Julia Cajelnar’s prison. 

Kenwood examined the surroundings as care- 
fully as he could without arousing the guard. 
Then, knowing the harm that might result from 
giving an alarm at this time, he motioned to 
Lanier and they silently retraced their footsteps. 

When they reached the shore they embarked 
at once and soon were on board the yacht. 

Mathews had reached it before them. He told 
them of Montgomery’s offer of assistance. 

“The man is a traitor twice so far,” said 
Kenwood, “I would not trust him.” 

“You are right,” said Lanier. 


158 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


Mathews also agreed, but he thought long- 
ingly of the fight which Montgomerj’ had prom- 
ised afterwards. Julia Cajelnar was not for him ; 
Mathews knew that full well, but it would have 
been sweet to get his hand upon Montgomery's 
throat for a moment before he lost her. 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


159 


CHAPTER XVI. 

THE PLAN. 

The plan which Kenwood had in mind was a 
hazardous one; for one reason because it in- 
volved the separation of their small forces. But 
they were so far outnumbered in any event that 
this did not present to his mind as serious an 
objection as under different circumstances it 
might have done. Whatever the natives could 
accomplish against them by the mere force of 
superior numbers, they would be able to do, were 
Kenwood’s men united or divided. 

The plan was to make three simultaneous 
movements, so sudden and so fierce that the 
natives, if all went well, might be surprised and 
thrown into a confusion from which they 
would not recover until the work of rescue and 
restoration had been practically accomplished. 
From the men recruited in the ship’s company 
Kenwood proposed to form three groups or 
squads under the command of Lanier, Mathews, 
and himself. Lanier was to attack the palace 


160 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


and take it, subduing the guard if he could, and 
making such disposition of the priest, Zanaka, 
Montgomery and their attendants as he found 
necessary. 

At the same moment of Lanier's assault, 
Mathews and his men were to rush the guard at 
the hut where Julia Cajelnar was imprisoned. 
Kenwood, with his men, was to make a similar 
move on the hut of Cajelnar. 

In assigning Mathews to the rescue of Julia, 
Kenwood performed an act of rare self-denial, 
which that young woman, it may be said in pass- 
ing, was never able fully to understand, or if she 
understood, to applaud. Yet he followed the 
plain dictates of duty, and had he chosen the 
other part, it is not doubtful that in her secret 
heart she would have questioned, if she did no 
more. 

If these rushes were successful Cajelnar and 
the girl were to be encircled by their resouers 
and the two forces were to form a junction at the 
bridge, which they were to cross and make their 
way to the palace. 

It was hoped that the storming of the palace 
by Lanier would attract most of the natives in 
that direction and that the field would be left 
practically clear before Kenwood and Mathews 
in the vicinity of the bridge. If Lanier had sue- 


161 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 

ceeded in taking tlie palace, and unless he had 
done so the whole plan fell to the ground, it was 
presumed that the effort to retake it on the part 
of the natives, if made at all, would be made 
from the front. It was planned, therefore, that 
after crossing the bridge Kenwood and Mathews 
with Julia and her father and their little band of 
supporters, should skirt around to the rear, 
where some of Lanier's men should be waiting at 
one of the smaller doors to aid and receive them. 

Once within the palace Kenwood believed that 
the place could be held by his men. As soon as 
opportunity made possible, Kenwood planned to 
proclaim Cajelnar king, and he believed that as 
soon as this could be done a sufficient party of 
the natives would join the standard of the re- 
stored ruler to establish and uphold him. 

One of the chief dangers which Kenwood feared 
was that, in the event of a sudden attack, the 
guards at the huts, acting under instructions, 
might dispatch their prisoners forthwith, not 
awaiting the formality of legal execution. The 
danger was partly guarded against by making the 
three assaults at the same moment. It was also 
to be met, he knew, only by the utmost alertness 
on the part of himself, Mathews and their com- 
panions. 

Such was the desperate plan which Kenwood 


m 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


had devised. That it was hazardous in the ex- 
treme, so hazardous that at first sight it seemed 
almost foolhardy, he saw quite clearly. But at 
the same time, it seemed to offer a chance of 
success. It was striking a blow, and it seemed, 
moreover, the only solution, if [solution there 
were, of the difficult problem which they faced. 

When he communicated it to his companions 
after they had returned from their night of 
reconnoissance, they gave to it prompt accept- 
ance, whatever their views as to its ultimate suc- 
cess. The men from the yacht’s company were 
summoned and chosen ; daring spirits they were 
and nothing loath to join in a fight on shore. 

So far fortune had favored them, for the 
problem of making an entrance into the palace 
practically had been settled by the discovery 
which the two men had made while standing 
near the doorway in the rear. 

“She has not left me anything to do,” said old 
Lanier, when Kenwood indicated to him what 
his part was to be ; but Kenwood was not so con- 
fident. 

“There’ll be plenty to do, to look after the 
guard inside. 

“And the mob outside,” said Mathews. 

“It is a good plan,” said Lanier, after a pause, 
“a good plan, if it only— hangs together.” 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


163 


"I know,” admitted Kenwood; "if it breaks 
down anywhere, the whole thing’s a failure.” 

“In which case,” said Mathews slowly, rising 
and walking toward the door of the cabin, “in 
which case, I think I’ll take a hand myself.” 

Kenwood looked at his companion, puzzled. 

“Your hand is a good one to play, surely,” 
he said, smiling. 

“None better,” said Mathews; “and I’ll play 
it, but if it fails — well, I might play from my 
sleeve.” And he disappeared on deck, laugh- 
ing. 


164 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

AT THE PALACE AND THE BRIDGE. 

The little coquette at the palace did not change 
her mind or her heart either — whichever she 
made of use in such affairs — for she opened the 
door in the western wall quite promptly at 10 
o’clock on Thursday night in response to a 
double knock. But instead of her lover, grizzly 
old Lanier stood there at the entrance. She 
could have found her lover, if she gave him a 
thought in her fright, which is not likely, lying 
in the bushes a half-dozen 3 ’ards from the wall, 
with a most unbecoming gag in his mouth, and 
his hands and feet securely tied. 

“I am most sorry to disappoint you, madame,” 
said Lanier gallantly, as she caught sight of him. 
He saw that she was going to scream as soon as 
she could catch her breath, and quick as a wink 
he had his arms around her, quite lover like it 
was, too, and his hand over her prettty mouth. 
She struggled a bit, and then stood quite 
silently. Lanier slightly loosened his hand 
which held her mouth. 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


165 


“Will you be quiet?” lie said. 

She nodded her head, panting, and he risked 
it. He removed his hand ; she did not scream. 

“You are a sensible woman, madame,” he said, 
“but if you move you will be a dead woman.” 

He kept his eye on her as he turned to the 
door and pushed it partly open, beckoning to his 
men who waited outside. They entered and 
stood along the wall, well within the shadow. 
The girl had not stirred, though she was trem- 
bling. 

“Quick,” said Lanier to her, “where are the 
priest and Zanaka?” 

“In the large room to the left of the hallway.” 

“Who else is there?” 

“‘No one.” 

“Is there a guard?” 

“Yes. About twenty soldiers. ” 

“How many priests?” 

“As many more.” 

The ex-consul shut his teeth with a snap. 

“Come,” he said to his men, “it is time we 
were making some noise.” 

And noise there was in a moment, plenty 
of it. The men needed no second bidding, and 
following the ex-consul they ran up the stairway 
that led to the rear of the palace and entered the 
building. Their entrance into the enclosure had 


166 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


been so silent, and the assault on the palace itself 
was so sudden, that two burly guards who were 
stationed at the rear doorway actually stepped 
aside to let them pass. But Lanier and one of 
the sailors in the lead cut them down with a 
stroke of their sabers, lest they fall upon the 
little company from the rear. In the center 
there was a space where the hallway was wider, 
and here the guard, rallying from the confusion, 
made a stand. Lanier and his men fell upon 
them, fighting with terrible fierceness. The 
guards were armed with short swords and small 
firearms. The latter were quite useless at such 
close quarters and the short swords were no 
match for the sabers of the assaulting party. 
Gradually the guard fell back. As they did so 
they began to use their firearms, and with some 
effect; but the sailors sprang forward, cutting 
their way through the wide space to the narrower 
part of the hallway. Suddenly a figure darted 
out from the crowd of guards and attempted to 
rush past the assailants toward the rear. Lanier 
struck at him with his saber and he fell, the 
blood gushing from a deep cut over his temple. 
He rolled over upon his back and lay there, the 
top of his head bathed in the red tide, his up- 
turned face drawn and ghastly. It was the Priest 
of Yharja. At the sight the guard and the 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


167 


company of priests who had been seeking to de- 
fend their leader turned and fled down the hall- 
way to the front of the palace. They flung open 
the doorway, and, with Lanier and his men pur- 
suing them to the very threshold, rushed out- 
side. 

It was the work of but a moment to close and 
bar the doors through which they had escaped. 
The palace had been taken. One of the sailors 
had been killed outright by a bullet from one of 
the priest’s defenders. Two or three were in- 
jured slightly. Lanier, who had fought where 
the fighting was fastest from the beginning, had 
not so much as a scratch. 

And now, rushing to the windows and looking 
out, they saw that a terrible tumult was abroad 
in the town. At the public square a man was 
speaking to the crowd, which was gathering 
rapidly. They were evidently preparing to form 
for an assault on the captured palace. 

But it was not the excited preparations at the 
square which attracted Lanier’s chief notice. 
He was looking for Kenwood and Mathews. Al- 
ready he had stationed two of his men at the 
rear entrance to admit them. 

Suddenly he saw where they were, and he 
started back with a cry of dismay. Away down 
below the village, where the bridge crossed the 


168 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


stream, a fierce battle was in progress. Even in 
the darkness Lanier could see the faces of some 
of the fighters by the flashes of firearms, and the 
sparks that flew when saber cut saber in the 
deadly combat. Lanier saw Kenwood and his 
men advance slowly, fighting every inch of the 
way, upon the bridge. But before they reached 
the center they were checked, and, slowly, they 
began to fall back. Once there was a mighty 
cheer from the natives, and the ex-consul 
thought that Kenwood was down or thatCajelnar 
had been recaptured, but a counter cheer from 
the sailors showed that the battle yet was neither 
won nor lost. 

The first part of Kenwood’s plan for the move- 
ments in the grove was carried out with as per- 
fect success as that which crowned the prompt- 
ness and energy of Lanier at the palace. The 
outcry at the palace when Lanier attacked had 
been enough, as Kenwood had hoped, to draw 
most of the defenders in that direction, away 
from 'the grove. Kenwood made a sudden as- 
sault, followed by his men, and before the guards 
could recover themselves, Cajelnar was released 
and the rush for the bridge began, Kenwood 
le&ding, saber in hand, and his men closing in 
about the rescued king. Mathews, meanwhile 
had acted with equal promptness and the forces 
easily joined at the bridge. 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


169 


But here, for them, the trouble began. The 
guards, as soon as they recovered from the first 
confusion into which they had been thrown, 
raised a great outcry and threw themselves on 
the rear of the sailors who, with Kenwood and 
Mathews in the lead, were now crossing the 
bridge. Their outcry in the meantime drew the 
attention of some of the men who were forming 
in the village, and these, rushing to the bridge, 
threw themselves with violence on the advancing 
supporters of Cajelnar. The battle waged fiercely 
on the bridge, but it was an unequal struggle. 
Kenwood was not only assailed in front, but the 
guards beset him in the rear, and his forces were 
thus subject to a double peril. 

In this emergency but one thing was possible; 
to give up the attempt to cross the bridge and 
retreat if possible to a safer field. In the rear 
Kenwood’s men already had turned to beat off 
the assailing guard, and now back to back, the 
little force moved slowly off from the bridge. 
When the structure had been cleared Kenwood 
made a sudden turn to the right toward the 
interior of the island, thus clearing his rear and 
presenting a single front to the enemy. Slowly 
now he retreated within the shelter of the 
palm trees, where for a time he made a stand 
with his men. They used their firearms with 


170 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


good effect, and presently there was a space be- 
fore them comparatively free. It was still impos- 
sible to think of crossing the bridge, and, intent 
upon reaching the palace, Kenwood turned with 
his men as soon as he could do so, and made his 
way carefully upstream along the bank. He 
proceeded slowly, his men moving with their 
faces turned toward the pursuing enemy, keep- 
ing up a deadly fire. Gradually the number of 
their pursuers grew less and less, and presently 
the firing ceased altogether. Kenwood now- 
looked for a crossing, and in this he was assisted 
by Cajelnar'who knew the ground. It was found 
at last, a narrow structure, but it served their 
purpose, and they crossed. They made their 
way rapidly now through the shrubbery, and 
finally reached the palace where they were 
admitted by Lanier’s men. 

Within the enclosure Kenwood looked around 
for the first time at his little band of heroic fol- 
lowers. 

He gave an exclamation of horror. 

Julia Cajelnar and Mathews were not there. 

But now the natives were swarming about the 
front and rear of the palace and at any moment 
the doors at either end might be forced. It 
would be more than madness to try to make a 
sally in search of the missing girl. Torches were 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


171 


now lighting with a lurid glare the vicinity of 
the public square and the palace, and Kenwood 
and Lanier could see Zanaka haranguing the 
crowd below. But the defenses of the place were 
strong and for a time the effect of the steady fire 
which the defenders kept up, through the open- 
ings in the doors in front and the wall in the 
rear, held the assailantsjn check. But this was 
only for a time. The crowd of natives grew 
gradually greater, and now they began to act 
with more complete organization under the lead 
of Zanaka. Battering rams were used with ter- 
rible effect on the huge doors in the rear of the 
palace and at every blow Kenwood and his com- 
panions expected to see them give way. 

But it was not here that the most serious as- 
sault was to be made. A half-dozen natives, who 
had separated themselves from their companions 
in front and rear, had gone to the center of the 
wall on the south side, and there, by the use of 
knives and iron bars had succeeded at last in 
loosening a stone. Instantly a hundred eager 
hands were ready to help them and slowly the 
wall began to give way. Under direction of 
Kenwood a terrible fire was concentrated upon 
the point, but as one native fell another took his 
place, and soon the breach was wide enough to 
admit a man. As yet no one attempted to enter, 


172 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


but the work of demolishing the wall proceeded 
rapidly. Wider and wider grew the breach and 
now a movement into the enclosure was made by 
the attacking natives; eager, merciless, and 
clamoring, they swarmed about the rear entrance 
of the palace. Practically the only defense at 
the rear was the wall of the enclosure, now use- 
less. It was hopeless to try to make a stand 
there against the horde which was now pouring 
in. Kenwood and his men formed a circle 
about the king, who was wounded. They formed 
in the hallway just beyond the central widening, 
determined to sell their lives dearly, with no 
thought of yielding as long as power of resist- 
ance remained. 


A FIGHT FOR a throne. 


173 


CHAPTEK XVIII. 

THE GODDES3 OF YHARJA. 

When the guards in the grove recovered them- 
selves from the confusion into which they had 
been thrown by the fierce, sudden rushes of 
Kenwood and Mathews, they threw themselves, 
as has been recorded, upon the rear of the 
rescuers. But the assault from the rear had not 
come wholly from the guard. When a junction 
of the two forces was made at the bridge, 
Mathews and his men, with Julia Cajelnar, fell 
in to the left of the column, and somewhat to the 
rear. They were chiefly of Mathews’s party who 
turned their backs to their companions in order 
to beat off the guards. 

Mathews turned with them, and as he did so 
he saw Montgomery, with half a dozen followers, 
also advancing. They were armed with sabers, 
but they held them as if rather for defense than 
attack, and in a moment Mathews saw that they 
were directing their assault toward the center of 


174 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


the column, nearest to the place where Julia stood 
wedged in between her defenders. 

The assault was so sudden and so well planned, 
and too, Mathews’s followers were so hard pressed 
by the guard, that Montgomery and his men suc- 
ceeded; and breaking the column, they seized the 
girl and bearing her between them, rushed away, 
before she could cry out, into the palm grove. 
Mathews, with a few of his men made off after 
them, forgetful of Cajelnar, of Kenwood, of 
everything except their devotion to Julia. 

Montgomery and his men rushed forward 
through the grove ; but, impeded by their burden, 
they were no match for their pursuers, and com- 
ing to a low stone barrier which offered them a 
slight protection, they made a stand. The forces 
were about equal. 

Suddenly Montgomery shouted to Mathews 
across the barricade. 

“I’ll fight you alone/’ he cried mockingly. 

The blood leaped to Mathews’s brain. 

“Done,” he answered, motioning to his men 
to stand back. 

In an instant Montgomery climbed coolly over 
the barricade, saber in hand. Mathews advanced 
to meet him. As they came within reach of each 
other, however, Montgomery lowered his blade. 

“We can’t fight in the dark!” he said petu- 
antly. 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


175 


“I can kill you as well in the dark as in the 
light,” said Mathews, setting his teeth. Then 
he added : “For I am going to kill you.” 

Montgomery shrugged his shoulders. 

“But I don’t choose to be murdered. Wait,” 
he said. 

He turned to one of his men, and in an instant 
the native dashed away. 

Mathews waited with impatience. 

“If you had waited an hour,” said Montgom- 
ery, “you would not have found her there when 

you rushed the guard. She was going away with 
»> 

me. 

Mathews made no reply. 

“At least, I was going to take her awaj',” 
added Montgomery with a laugh. 

Now the native came running back, bearing 
two huge torches in his hand. They lighted up 
the grove with a strange illumination. Mont- 
gomery took one of the torches from the native 
and handed it to Mathews. 

“Give that to your man,” he said. “This fel- 
low will light for me.” 

And now the strange duel began, the two 
attendants holding the torches high, so that the 
shadows fell low, not interfering with the fight- 
ing. 

From the beginning the men fought furiously, 


176 A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 

their sabers clashing again and again in the un- 
certain light. Saber fighting at best is no simple 
game, and, both men being unfamiliar with their 
weapons though fairly trained in ordinary sword 
play, the contest was rather one of quickness 
and endurance than of skill. Round and round 
the two men circled, the advantage now with 
one, now with another. Once Montgomery 
touched his companion on the shoulder and the 
red blood answered freely. Julia, who was look- 
ing on with awestruck eyes, gave a gasp of hor- 
ror, but Mathews fought on, nothing daunted. 
Both men were panting now, and for a space they 
moved around less swiftly and with greater 
caution. Then the fight grew furious again and 
suddenly Montgomery dropped his saber and 
sank to his knees, clutching at his throat, from 
which the blood spurted and flowed. He gasped, 
struggled a moment, and then sank in a heap 
upon the ground. With a terrible swing, though 
it was a chance blow, Mathews had almost sev- 
ered his antagonist’s head from his body. Mont- 
gomery was quite dead when Mathews rolled 
him over upon his face. 

As they saw their leader fall the natives turned 
and fled in the direction of the town. Mathews 
sprang to Julia’s side. 

“Quick,” he said, “to the palace.” 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 177 

But when they reached the open they saw that 
it would be madness to seek to make their way to 
the royal residence. They heard the thundering 
of the battering ram, and, in the glare of the 
torches which lighted the assault, they saw the 
men at work where the wall was broken. 

They had not yet crossed the stream and 
Mathews drew his little company back into the 
shelter of the grove. Suddenly he turned to 
Julia. 

“Can you do a daring thing?” he demanded. 

“I can do anything; shall we make a rush for 
it? Do you mean that?” 

“No, no; it would be certain death. But 
there is yet a chance. Come, follow me.” 

With Julia beside him and the men following 
he dashed forward toward the lagoon. When 
they reached the open they saw, a hundred 
yards to the southward, a boat with a single oc- 
cupant, riding just clear of the beach. Mathews 
ran down the sand until he stood opposite it. 

He called to the man in the boat. 

“Down there,” he cried pointing toward the 
shore near the temple. “There is not a minute 
to lose.” 

The man headed his boat toward the spot in- 
dicated, and pulled lustily. Mathews and his 
companions kept up with him on the beach. 


178 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


Presently the spot opposite the temple was 
reached and the boat was drawn up on the shore. 
In the stern a half-dozen boxes were piled. 

The [temple was quite deserted, the men who 
guarded it having joined in the attack upon the 
captured palace. The structure was low and 
chiefly of stone. In front there were pillars, and 
a raised platform or balcony. On each side of 
this platform stone curbs, about two feet high, 
cut off a narrow space before the wall of the 
structure. 

Behind these curbs Mathews, who had exam- 
ined the building on Tuesday night after his 
adventure with Montgomery near the hut where 
Julia was imprisoned, now arranged, with the 
greatest care, the contents of the boxes. Julia 
watched him in astonishment. 

“Are you afraid?” he asked. 

“Afraid, no!” 

“You are to be the goddess — of Yharja,” he 
said. 

Her eyes grew big with wonder, but she did 
not tremble and her voice was quite steady. 

“Tell me plainly what I am to do,” she said. 
“I do not understand it all.” 

He had finished arranging the contents of the 
boxes, and now he rose and addressed her gravely. 

“Listen,” he said, “for what we do we must 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


179 


do quickly, for I do not think they cun hold out 
much longer up there. Here, put this robe 
about you. There, that is well. You are not 
trembling and you will not fail. I am going to 
light up the temple now, and the grove. When 
I give you the word walk slowly out on the plat- 
form there. See, get further into the shadow 
until I call to you. You know the story of the 
goddess. Speak to them, and I think they will 
obey you. If they recognize you, jump and we 
will make a rush for the boat. If they do not 
recognize you, I think we can win the day yet. ” 

The girl grasped his meaning quickly. 

“I am ready,” she said. 

Mathews stepped to his position behind the 
curb. 

The natives came pouring into the palace from 
the rear, and in overwhelming numbers would 
have thrown themselves murderously upon the 
little band of defenders of the king, but sud- 
denly a singular, awful appearance palsied the 
arm of assailant and defender alike, and turned 
the tide of fortune which had set so strongly 
against the supporters of Cajelnar. 

The vicinity of the temple in the palm grove, 
near the shore, was suddenly lighted up with a 
fierce, blinding glare. The natives turned in 
that direction and looked. The fierce light con- 


180 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


tinued, and now the colors changed rapidly, and 
streams of fire seemed to cast themselves from a 
burning center, flowing out into space. 

And now an awed silence of trembling expec- 
tation fell over the people. As they looked 
toward the temple they saw a figure move out 
upon the stone platform in front of t the temple. 
It was the figure of a woman, clothed in long, 
flowing robes of white. 

Suddenly a cry arose. 

“Yharja! Yharja!” they cried. 

In a moment the word was taken up by the 
multitude. 

“ Yharja! Yharja!” they cried and they began 
to move toward the temple. In a short space the 
palace was deserted, save by the little body of 
its defenders, and the multitude bowed in the 
dust before the temple, where the goddess of 
Yharja stood calmly in the blinding glare, await- 
ing their silence, to speak to them. 

The people bowed their heads in humbleness 
and humiliation and to them now Yharja spoke. 
Her voice was clear and strong and true, and in 
it was a ring of dignity and authority well befit- 
ting her mysterious and sacred character. At 
first her words were those of denunciation, of 
bitterness, of condemnation and reproach, and 
they bowed their heads deeper in the sand and 
moaned pitifully. Then she spoke more quietly, 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


181 


pointing out to them the evil that had come to 
them from their impiety and folly. She spoke 
of reparation and of penances, and with cries 
and gestures they indicated that they would do 
her will. She bade them restore the ancient 
usages and the king, against whom they had 
fought this night, and they promised, springing 
to their feet in haste to run to do him homage. 
But she made them bow down again lest they be 
blinded, and in a moment the terrible light 
blazed afresh until the whole island was illumi- 
nated by its unearthly glare. There was a blind- 
ing flash, and she was gone. 

And now, throwing down their arms, the peo- 
ple hastened to the palace to do homage to Peter 
Cajelnar, the king. Kenwood and Lanier saw 
them coming and feared another assault, but 
some of the more fleet-footed ran on ahead and, 
gesturing the peacefulness of their mission, ac- 
quainted the defenders of the palace with the 
strange events which had taken place. 

Presently Kenwood and Lanier saw that it was 
true, and they flung open the wide doorway at 
the entrance, and with Cajelnar between them, 
and a little group of wearied, bleeding comrades, 
stood out upon the balcony, before the gather- 
ing multitude, and there they proclaimed Cajel- 
nar king, amid the joyous acclamations of the 
people. 


182 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

THE DEATH OP THE KING. 

Thus was the King of Yajoha restored to his 
throne and to his people. But Fate, which had 
marked this little island to be the scene of 
thronging events, had yet in store. Now Fate is 
a curious Lady, or three Ladies if you please, and 
as she orders, or as they order, so let it be, 
though you or I perhaps might order differ- 
ently. 

WhenCajelnar had received the homage of the 
people upon the balcony, his companions drew 
him quickly back inside the palace, and they 
shut the doors, admitting no one, for they saw 
that he was breathing heavily, and that the blood 
was flowing again from the saber cut in his side. 
As they closed the door he fainted and they bore 
him away and placed him upon a couch, where 
he lay quietly. The faintness passed quickly, but 
he was very weak. The wound was more serious 
than they had supposed. 

Kenwood and Lanier, both of whom had come 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


183 


uninjured from the fight, stood near his couch, 
and to each of them he reached out a weary 
hand. 

“It was a good blow you struck,” he said, 
“and you struck it like men. Lanier, old friend, 
I shall die a king. ” 

“Not for many a day, please God, ’ ’ said Lanier ; 
but he shook his head to Kenwood when Cajel- 
nar was not looking. 

The king turned his face wearily away, and 
for a time there was silence, then he spoke again. 

“Julia, where is she?” he asked. 

“Good God!” said Lanier springing to his 
feet. 

But at that moment she entered with Mathews. 
She threw herself beside her father’s couch. 

“Father!” she cried, throwing her arms about 
him. 

He stroked her dark hair gently. 

“You are injured!” she cried suddenly, for 
the first time noting the wound and the pallor 
of his face. 

“I shall die a king, among my people,” he 
said gently, but she looked up wildly at Lanier 
and the others. 

“He will not die, he must not die, not now!” 
she said. But he was sinking rapidly and the 
physician who had been in attendance since 


184 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


Cajelnar reached the palace shook his head as he 
made another examination. 

Suddenly Cajelnar raised himself slightly on 
his couch and took his daughter’s hand, looking 
at her earnestly. 

“I shall not rule again in Yajoha,” he said, 
so earnestly that none interrupted to seek to 
cheer him, “for I am dying, the king is dying. 
Do you, Julia, reign in his stead. The people 
of this island are your people as well as mine, 
you shall be their queen, to lead them, to succor 
them, to be their stay, their guide. Rule justly, 
as your father would have ruled ; be faithful as 
he would have been. Julia, will you do it?” 

She was kneeling, but she drew her body erect, 
and looked at her father with clear unfaltering 
eyes. 

“I will be their queen, and they shall be my 
people, and I will be faithful,” she said. 

He drew her dark head down and kissed her 
gently; then he turned his head away, for he 
was very weary and fell asleep. And thus he 
continued until he ceased to breathe, his daugh- 
ter kneeling before him, Kenwood near her, and 
Lanier and Mathews standing a little further 
away toward the foot of the couch. 

Thus died Peter Cajelnar, King of Yajoha. 
After he was dead and they had covered his face, 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 185 

and straightened his limbs lovingly, they left 
him and went into an adjoining room. Lanier 
did not sit down but paced back and forward 
excitedly. Suddenly he stopped in front of 
Julia: 

“You do not think of — remaining here?” he 
said. 

She smiled up at him, sweetly and sadly. 

“I shall remain,” she said simply. 

“It is madness,” said the ex-consul vehe- 
mently. 

“They are my people,” she answered. 

But he would not listen to her. His grief and 
resentment knew no bounds. It was preposter- 
ous, ridiculous, impossible, he said. He denied 
that they were her people. They were heathens, 
savages, murderers. He begged, he commanded, 
he almost went on his knees to her, but she list- 
ened, not chiding him for his wild words, but 
never wavering from her purpose. 

“I shall stay,” she said, when he finally 
reached an end, “and if they are not already my 
people, I shall make them so. Did not my father 
teach me their language and their customs when 
I was a little child, telling me that they too were 
his children, and that some day we should re- 
turn to them? All this you know. They are 
not strange to me, and God wills that I should 
lead and guide them. Therefore, I shall stay.” 


186 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


Kenwood and Mathews, during this conversa- 
tion had remained silent. Mathews now spoke. 

“I think with Lanier,” he said. “Already 
there has been sacrifice enough.” 

The girl held out her hand to him smiling. 

“Yet must I stay,” she said gently. 

“I know, I know,” he answered. 

And now she turned to Kenwood who still was 
silent. 

“And what say you?” she asked softly. They 
knew that she loved him ; that his word would 
have weight with her as that of no other, and 
they waited eagerly for his answer. But she 
knew what he would answer. 

“I think that you must remain,” he said. 

And now Lanier and Mathews left these two 
together alone; Lanier to look again upon the 
face of the dead king ; Mathews to pace up and 
down in the hallway, striving to hide a sorrow 
which he would not show. 

As the door closed Kenwood was on his knees 
before her, and her arms were around his neck. 

“My love, my love,” she whispered, kissing 
his hair. 

“God wills that you must staj r , but that I — 
must go,” he said. 

“Yes,'God wills it,” she answered. 

There was a long silence, but presently they 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 187 

began to talk of the past, since the future lay 
dark before them. They spoke of the morning 
when he found her first, upon the wreck; of 
their merry journey across the sands with the 
boat ; of the long vigil near the hut, where word- 
lessly their hearts had spoken and claimed an 
eternal kinship ; of the morning on the summit 
in the park when she told him of her father’s 
longing for his home; of the meeting in the 
cathedral where first their love spoke boldly. 
Sweet reminiscences they were, but they spoke 
them sadly, for the end of it all was to be a part- 
ing. 


188 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


CHAPTER XX. 

AN INTERNATIONAL INCIDENT. 

And now the days sped swiftly, as days of fond 
companionship speed, when beyond lie separa- 
tion and dreary waiting. It was quite four 
weeks since the restoration, and a day for de- 
parture had been set, and now it was near, so 
near that Kenwood felt his heart sinking with 
the thought of parting. Kenwood and Mathews 
were going; Lanier was to remain. 

On the evening before the day fixed for the 
departure Kenwood and Lanier were walking on 
the sand near the shore of the lagoon. For a 
long time they walked in silence, each busy with 
his own thoughts. Grave thoughts they were, 
and sorrowful. But they would not speak sor- 
rowfully ; therefore they walked up and down, 
each knowing that the other’s sympathy was no 
less deep because wordless. 

Presently Kenwood began to speak of a plan 
which they had formulated for the people of 
Yajoha. It was the second part of the task 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


189 


which he had accepted from the last message of 
his father. The manner of it related to the 
building up of the commerce of the island, and 
Kenwood now went over the details as they had 
thought them out, Lanier adding a suggestion 
here and there, but for the most part listening or 
seeming to listen. 

“You are coming back now and then, to see 
how it all goes?” said Lanier, rather wistfully 
as Kenwood paused. 

“I hardly know,” said Kenwood. He was 
thinking of Julia Cajelnar. Presently he added : 
“If I can be a help to — her, I will come.” 

“Then you will come,” said Lanier. 

“Ah, I wish I were sure. But if it were to 
make it hard for her ” 

“Stuff,” said the ex-consul. 

But Kenwood shook his head, making no reply. 
Presently Lanier made a gesture of impatience. 

“It cannot last; it must not last,” he said. 

“What cannot last?” 

“This whim, this notion of hers to stay here, 
with these people.” 

“I think it will last,” said Kenwood gravely. 

But the old ex-consul would see nothing but 
folly in it. 

“And you intend to leave it so; to give her 
up?” he demanded. 


190 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


Kenwood was silent for a space. 

“Ido not know,” he said. “Perhaps, some 
time, it may be different, and she may be mine 
again. But I dare not put it into words; dare 
not think definitely of it even. Now there is 
only duty, her duty and mine.” 

The ex-consul gave an expression of disgust, 
but Kenwood only smiled. He knew how 
gentle, how keenly sympathetic was the sturdy 
heart beneath this rough exterior. 

And now they fell to talking about the imme- 
diate future of the island. Since Julia had been 
proclaimed, the utmost harmony had seemed to 
exist among the natives, who rendered her the 
strongest support and most respectful homage. 
The council of natives which she had chosen in- 
cluded the most intelligent leaders among her 
people. The priestly class had been, of neces- 
sity, recognized, but the greatest care had been 
taken in choosing its representatives. 

“If only we were sure about Zanaka,” said 
Kenwood. 

“Iam sure enough about him,” said Lanier 
grimly. 

“You mean that you think he is up to mis- 
chief?” 

“Exactly.” 

“He may be dead,” said Kenwood. 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


191 


"Perhaps, but I think his body would have 
been found.” 

"But where could he be; what could he be 
doing?” 

"The most that I can hope,” said Lanier, "is 
that he has left the island for good and all. 
That may be possible, but I confess it does not 
seem likely enough to give me a great deal of 
comfort. If he wants to, he can make trouble.” 

"He is strong with the people,” admitted 
Kenwood. 

"That’s not the worst of it,” said Lanier. 
He drew nearer his companion and spoke in a 
low tone. 

"He knows about Yharja,” he said. 

"Not that Julia ” 

"Just that. He recognized her. He is not 
superstitious.” 

"How do you know?” 

"Julia knows. She noticed while she was 
speaking to them before the temple. He has 
not been seen since.” 

Here was a serious matter. Kenwood’s face 
grew’ troubled. Zanaka’s absence had been 
noticed immediately after the restoration and 
the death of Cajelnar, but at first they had sup- 
posed that he was sulking, and had been dis- 
posed to let him alone until his own interests 


192 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


brought him to seek to accommodate himself to 
the new regime. His continued absence had come 
to be a matter of concern, and finally Julia had 
confided to Lanier her belief that Zanaka had 
recognized her on the night when for a brief 
space she played to such good purpose the role 
of Goddess of Yharja. This belief had not been, 
up to this time, communicated to Kenwood, 
Julia, in her thoughtfulness, fearing that it 
would cause him needless anxiety. 

Kenwood now turned to Lanier. 

“We must find that man,” he said with deter- 
mination. 

“Perhaps not so easy a matter,” said the ex- 
consul. 

But Kenwood was planning rapidly. 

“You say you hope he has left the islands,” 
he said; “how could he have left; by what 
means?” 

“The Occident remained at Llamaja. He 
could have reached there easily enough in a 
small boat.” 

The two men now continued their walk, silence 
again falling upon them. The moon had risen 
and was shining brightly, so that they could see 
far out over the lagoon, across the coral reef, to 
the place where their yacht lay peacefully at 
anchor. 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


193 


Suddenly Lanier gripped Kenwood’s arm, and 
stopped him. Kenwood looked at bis compan- 
ion in surprise, and then followed the direction 
of Lanier’s gaze out across the reef. He gave an 
ejaculation of surprise. 

‘‘What is she? She is not the Occident,” he 
cried. 

“No, not the Occident,” answered Lanier. In 
the uncertain moonlight he was looking with 
wide, eager eyes. 

“She is coming to anchor,” said Kenwood. 
“See, Lanier, can you see?” 

‘“Yes, yes. Wait! Kenwood, she is a war- 
ship!” 

“A warship!” 

“Yes. What other craft afloat carries a shape 
like that? She is a warship; nothing less.” 

The two men watched the strange vessel ex- 
citedly. The steamer showed no lights, but in 
the stillness of the night they could hear move- 
ments aboard her and orders given. She came 
to anchor within a half-mile of the yacht. 

Suddenly Kenwood turned and, calling to 
Lanier to come on, made his way rapidly along 
the beach. 

“We will go out to the Valiant. From there 
we can tell something of what she is,” he cried. 

Lanier followed him, and soon they were on 


194 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


board the yacht. Mathews, who had not been 
ashore, greeted them excitedly. He had been 
watching the vessel as she came to anchor. She 
was indeed a warship, of the cruiser type, and 
huge guns frowned below her deck. 

As soon as she had anchored, lights began to 
show aboard her, and presently there was the 
sound of the lowering of a boat. Then there 
came the regular swing of the oars in the oar- 
locks, growing more and more distinct. The 
boat was nearing the yacht. Presently it was 
within hailing distance, and in the moonlight 
they could see an officer in uniform, standing in 
the bow. He hailed them now : 

“What craft are you?” he demanded. 

“The yacht Valiant, at present in the service 
of Julia, Queen of Yajoha, ” answered Kenwood. 

The officer waited a moment, speaking to a 
companion in the boat. In a moment he shouted 
again : 

“Admiral Von Soult presents his compli- 
ments,” he said, “and requests that your com- 
mander, with two officers, do him the honor to 
confer with him immediately on board the 
cruiser.” The language was courteous, but 
there was a ring of authority in the tone. 

“Von Soult!” cried Lanier, gripping Ken- 
wood’s arm. 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


195 


“Yes, what does it mean?” asked Kenwood. 

“God knows,” answered Lanier. 

“Could he have heard of the battle?” 

“Perhaps. Answer the fellow ; he is waiting.” 

Presently, in their own boat, Kenwood, Lanier, 
and Mathews with a crew made spick and span 
for the occasion, proceeded to the warship. 
They were taken on board at once and welcomed 
with grave dignity by an officer who conducted 
them below to the admiral. The latter came 
straight to the point. 

“There has been another revolution here,” he 
said bluntly, “and a fight. The ruler of the 
island, head of the church and of the govern- 
ment, has been killed in his residence, and the 
government overturned. I take it that you — 
gentlemen — do not belong to the island, but that 
you had a hand in the revolution.” 

His manner was direct, vigorous, even harsh. 
He awaited no reply, and continued: 

“I do not know to what penalty you may have 
made yourselves liable; that can be examined 
later. I have sent for you for another purpose.” 

The three men bowed; suddenly the admiral’s 
manner changed and he looked at them with a 
more genial expression on his face. 

“Pray be seated,” he said. “I will be frank 
with you.” 


196 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


The four men now seated themselves beside a 
table in the center of the cabin, and the admiral 
addressed them, leaning toward them over the 
polished surface upon which occasionally by way 
of emphasis he brought his hand down with a 
resounding thump. 

“This is the second serious disturbance — be- 
sides innumerable small ones — on these islands 
within little more than twenty years,” he said 
earnestly. “The first one was disastrous, and 
the trade with the island which my government 
had fostered with the greatest care, was almost 
ruined. Since that time every effort has been 
put forth to improve it, but, though the re- 
sources of the group are little less than magnifi- 
cent, the results have not been encouraging. 

“Now comes another revolution, murder is 
done, the church is overthrown, the palace 
seized, and a new ruler proclaimed, a woman at 
that!” 

“The old king was restored,” said Kenwood, 
“and the man who was killed was a usurper. 
The king died later from his wounds, and his 
daughter naturally succeeded him.” 

“Tut!” cried the admiral, bringing his fist 
down upon the table with a bang, “I do not 
want to hear the details of your quarrels. I 
have heard all I want to hear. I know that 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 197 

there has been bloodshed, and that trade will 
suffer if this thing is allowed to go on.” 

“There will be no more disturbance,” said 
Kenwood, “and the new government is most 
favorable to the increase of trade. The people 
are satisfied now.” 

“It is natural that you should say so,” said 
the admiral, “since you succeeded in setting up 
your government, but others think differently. 
Wait.” He pressed a button, and an aide an- 
swered, saluting. 

“Bring that heathen here,” he said. The 
aide departed and presently returned with — • 
Zanaka. 

Zanaka stood before them motionless, his 
swarthj" face bearing an expression of triumph, 
though he did not smile or speak. 

The three men started when they saw him, 
and the admiral noted it with a grin of satisfac- 
tion. 

“We get rather a different story from this — 
gentleman, whom I see you recognize,” he said. 
He motioned to the aide. 

“That w r ill do for the present,” he added to 
Zanaka, with a bow. There was humor in the 
bow, though the admiral appeared perfectly 
grave and serious. 

“But, as I tell you,” continued the admiral 


198 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


after Zanaka Lad disappeared, “I do not wish, 
my government does not wish, to inquire into 
your quarrels. It is enough for my government 
that trade is retarded, and murder done. These 
things, gentlemen, I must tell you, in the name 
of my government, cannot continue! They can- 
not continue!” 

‘‘They will not continue,” said Kenwood 
earnestly, “under the present regime ” 

“They will not continue,” said the admiral, 
now fixing his gaze directly upon his visitors 
and speaking with great impressiveness, “they 
will not continue, sir, for a better reason than 
the one you give Gentlemen, my government 
is about to annex these islands!” 

If the admiral had expected to see the marks 
of consternation, of protest, of rebellion, of 
anger, on the faces of his visitors — and doubtless 
the old sea dog was prepared for any of them — he 
was treated to a surprise. 

Old Lanier sprang from his chair, and grasped 
the admiral’s hand with an exclamation of joy. 

“Thank God! thank God!” he cried, wring- 
ing the admiral’s hand. 

Mathews was hardly less exultant, though he 
expressed it differently. 

“The police are welcome in this case, though 
they come in after the fight,” he said, smiling 
joyously. 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


199 


Kenwood alone was silent. 

“I am glad you are — satisfied/’ said the ad- 
miral, recovering from any surprise which he 
may have felt. “You understand that this — 
queen — of yours will have to come down; that is, 
she will be obliged to give way to a representa- 
tive of my government.” 

“That’s it, thank God!” said Lanier. 

The admiral looked puzzled, and now he 
turned to Kenwood. 

“Well, sir,” he said brusquely, “shall we 
expect acquiescence also from you?” 

Kenwood hesitated for a moment, then a look 
of relief came over his face. The lines of anxiety 
which had been deepening there for many 
months almost faded out for the moment. He 
held out his hand to the admiral. 

“You act in the interest of trade and com- 
merce,” he said. 

“And humanity,” said the admiral. 

“Commerce is civilization,” said Kenwood. 

“It is,” said the admiral. 

“Then you can count upon my acquiescence, 
sir, and my assistance, if I can render any,” said 
Kenwood. 

“You talk like sensible men,” said the ad- 
miral, “the other fellow didn’t. He wanted me 
to cut your throats, together with the queen’s. 


200 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


Between you and me, this annexation may 
stagger him a bit. But we will look after him. ” 

The admiral now looked about him with keen 
satisfaction. 

“If it were proper,” he said, “I would like to 
know how you three men got mixed up in this 
thing. But it is not proper. I am not permitted 
to inquire into this quarrel. But one thing I 
can do, and am going to do; two things in fact. 
To-morrow I am going to take possession of these 
islands, in the name of my government; now, if 
you will be seated, I am going to open a few 
small bottles.” 


A 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


201 


CHAPTER XXI. 

UNTIL THE END OF ALL. 

Thus was the reign of the good Queen Julia of 
Yajoha shortened into a brief space. It is the 
age of commerce, as well as the age of civiliza- 
tion, and in this age, both commerce and civili- 
zation have come to stand for annexations and 
protectorates and spheres of influence, so that it 
behooves such sovereigns as this gentle lady to 
stand aside before the march of progress. 

Whether she subscribed to this doctrine or 
not, Julia stood aside. Indeed Admiral Yon 
Soult gave her little time to make choice. He 
came ashore in the morning, accompanied by a 
small guard and a single officer, and, with little 
heed to formality, proceeded to the palace, where 
he made known his mission. Half an hour later 
the flag of his government was flying from the 
topmost pinnacle, and the officer was installed as 
governor. The governor proceeded to issue a 
proclamation, with which Admiral Yon Soult had 
provided him, by whioh the natives — so far as 


202 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


they could understaud — became acquainted with 
the beneficent purposes of the new regime and 
the new career of the island and its neighbors 
was fairly begun. 

Admiral Yon Soult had been instructed to pur- 
chase the allegiance of the queen, but after a 
brief interview with her he came away without 
having put his instructions into words. He had, 
indeed, hinted at a pension, but the result had 
not been of a nature to encourage him to go 
further. 

“If the rest of them had been like her, ” he 
said later, “we wouldn’t have had this chance, 
not so good a chance, to get the islands.” 

“But,” he added after a moment of thought, 
“we would have had them. ” 

After it was all over Julia and Kenwood stood 
upon the balcony, looking out across the lagoon. 
A sudden shyness had taken possession of the 
girl and for a time both were silent. 

“Dearest,” he whispered presently. 

She gave him a quick glance from her glorious 
eyes. 

“Am I that still?” she asked, smiling. 

“Did you think you were not?” 

“I have been deposed,” she said ruefully. 

“From the throne of Yajoha, yes; yet still you 
reign.” 

“How, still?” 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE, 203 

“In my heart; how well you know.” 

“It is a kingdom,” she whispered. 

And now this gentle lady, so strong of will 
and mind and body, was guilty of a whim. She 
would return with Lanier — she made no protest 
over leaving the island where her work was 
done, but she would return by way of Cape 
Horn, and by no other way. Kenwood had 
plauned to take them in the Yaliant to San Fran- 
cisco, sending the vessel later upon the long voy- 
age to the north Atlantic, but the girl would 
have none of it. Nor did he long oppose her, 
nor did Lanier nor Mathews. 

Fair weather attended them upon their home- 
ward journey and even the wild region of the 
cape waved them a gentle welcome and farewell. 
A peaceful voyage and a joyous one, save for the 
sadness which came over them when they 
thought of Peter Cajelnar. Yet he had died a 
king, among his people, in the home that he 
loved and given his life for, and they knew that 
where they left him his rest was sweet. 

One day they anchored oft the harbor of Monte- 
video, and Julia and Kenwood went ashore, to 
revisit the cathedral. She entered the pew 
where he had found her listening to the an- 
them months before. The place seemed to be 
quite deserted now ; the loft was silent. 


204 


A FIGHT FOR A THRONE. 


He came and stood beside her as he had done 
on the day when he told her of his love. 

“How long it seems ago,” she said. 

“And yet it is not long. It seems but yester- 
day, if you cut the suffering and the sorrow 
out. 

“Ah, the suffering and the sorrow. I could 
not have borne them if it had not been ” 

“If it had not been ?” 

“That I came into my kingdom, here.” 

“My queen,” he murmured. Then he took 
her hand and leaning toward her, said : 

“I told you then that I would be near you 
while you were in danger; the danger is passed, 
yet I would be near; I would be near you al- 
ways, my love, my queen.” 

She raised her dark eyes to his and answered 
him with her gaze, all Jove and joy, fixed upon 
him, thus: 

“Until the end of all,” she said. 


THE END. 


SnOKINQ FLAX. 

A Story of Dixie’s Latest Problem. 

By HaLLIE ERM 1 NIE RIVES. 

Neely’s Prismatic Library. Gilt top, 50 cents. 

Stories of the South, dealing with its familiar types f 
and lighter scenes, are of ordinary occurrence. Somber 
essays, descanting wisely upon its social problems are 
not rare. But seldom, indeed, has any writer succeeded 
in decking a sectional sermon in the garb of romance or 
of tragedy and sketching with the bold crayon of realistic 
circumstance, the trenchant lines of a condition against 
which theoretic logicians inveigh in vain. In “ Smoking 
Flax ” Miss Rives has done this — her story deals with that 
grave question of southern social economy, the lynching. 

Miss Rives needs no introduction, since “ A Fool in 
Spots ” and numerous short stories gained for this beau- 
tiful daughter of Dixie a young popularity. She is a 
cousin of Amelia Rives, now the Princess Troubepkoi, 
and has much of the poetic feeling which distinguished 
that vivid authoress. Her present book is a fierce 
arraignment of the northern societies which see in Judge 
Lynch only the lawless and unreasoning arbiter of a blind 
and passion-led mob. And yet the arraignment is before 
no court, and the briefs are all drawn up by the reader. 

Upon the stern and rigid warp of brutal and bloody 
fact, Miss Rives, with the hand of a practised workman, 
and with a shuttle wound with the bright hues and 
odorous warmths of the south-land has woven a woof of 
romance, of woman's tenderest love and man's manliest 
devotion. The lights and shades are closely mingled, 
and through all the story, from its opening in the calm 
of peace and content, to its tragic close in the storm of 
death and bitterness and despair, the reader is held in an 
interest which grows steadily more real and more en- 
thralling. 


For sale everywhere, or sent post-paid on receipt of price, 

F. TENNYSON NEELY, Publisher, 

96 Queen Street, London. 114 Filth Avenue, New York. 


The King in Yellow. 

By 

Robert W. Chambers. 

Author of ** In the Quarter.” 

Neely’s Prismatic Library. 

Gilt Top, 50 Cents. 

This book has evidently created an astonishing amount of enthusiasm amonfc 
the lovers of the weird and eccentric in literature. On all sides nothing but praise 
has been heard, coupling the gifted autnor’s name with that of Edgar Allan Poe, 
and predicting a glorious future for the man whose pen has the magical power to 
charm the reading public, ever eager to seize on that which borders upon the bi- 
ztxr r. The odd and attractive cover appeals to the curiosity of the reader, and 
once he has dipped into the contents he finds a feast spread before him that awak- 
ens a desire for further intercourse with the same fertile pen. 

Edward Ellis “ The author is a genius without a living equal, so far as 
I am aware, in his peculiar field. It is a masterpiece. ... I have read many 
portions several times, captivated by the unapproachable tints of the painting. 
None but a genius of the highest order could do such work.” 

N. Y. Commercial Advertiser : — “ The short prose tale should be a syn- 
thesis : it was the art of Edgar Poe, it is the art of Mr. Chambers. . . . His is 
beyond question a glorious neritage. ... I fancy the book will create a sen- 
sation ; ... in any case it is the most notable contribution to literature which 
has come from an American publisher for many years ; and fine as the accom- 
plishment is, ‘ The King in Yellow ’ is large in promise. One has a right to ex- 
pect a great deal from an author of this calibre.” 

Times Herald:— “The most eccentric little volume of its (little) day 
* The King in Yellow ’ is subtly fascinating, and compels attention for its style, 
and its wealth of strange, imaginative force.” 

New York Times “ Mr. Robert \V. Chambers does not have a system to 
work up to ; he has no fad, save a tendency to write about the marvelous and the 
impossible ; painting pictures of romance tnat have a wild inspiration about them. 
Descriptive powers of no mean quality are perceptible in this volume of stories. ,, 

The N. Y. World : — “ Mr. Chambers has a great command of words ; he is 
a good painter. His situations are most delicately touched, and some of his de- 
scriptions are exquisite. He writes like an artist. He uses colors rather than 
ideas. . . . The best drama in the volume means madness. The tenderest 
fancy is a sad mirage. . . . ‘ The King in Yellow ’ is a very interesting con- 
tribution to the present fund of materio-mysticism. . . . To read Mr. Cham- 
bers’ little book is to escape from the actual on poetical wings.” 

Minneapolis Tribune: — “They have a mysterious eerie air about them 
jhat is apt to stimulate the reader’s curiosity.” 

Philadelphia Times:— “ Charming, delicate, skilful, vivid.” 

Philadelphia Item :—“ Expected to make a sensation, charming, full of 
color and delicately tinted.” 

Cleveland Gazette : — “It is wondrous strong, dramatic, full of color, weird, 
uncanny, picturesque, and yet a gem of exquisite coloring, dreamy, symbolic, 
exciting.” 


For sale everywhere, or sent post-paid on receipt of price. 

F. TENNYSON NEELY, Publisher, 

Queen Street, London. 114 Fifth Avenue, New York. 


Novels of Willis Steefl. 

In A Mountain of Gold the reader is led through 
many strange adventures, while a vein of love arouses 
the interest of the fair sex. Mr. Steell has shown more 
than ordinary power in describing Western scenes. Fof 
many years to come the region from the Rockies to the 
Pacific must be the home of romance. The century be 
fore us is destined to be marked by stupendous discover 
ies in the treasures of the earth, and stories of mining 
must always commend themselves to the eager poblic. 

Isidra, The Patriot Daughter of Mexico. 
The land of the Montezumas has always bec/i invested 
rith a halo of romance ever since the days when the 
Spanish invader, Cortez, swept over the country with 
his conquering army of treasure seekers. This interest, 
instead of waning as the years pass by, rather increases. 
New knowledge of Mexico but whets our eagerness to 
learn more of her strange people, their methods of living, 
and the vast treasures that lie sealed under her mountain 
ledges. “ Isidra ” is written by one who is thoroughly 
at home in his subject. It is a charming tale of love 
and adventure under the Mexican flag, and one cannot 
read the romance without learning many inchesting 
things in connection with our neighbors over fcbft border.* 


JSIDRA. Paper, 50 cents. 

A MOUNTAIN OF GOLD. Paper, 25 o*nt«. 


For sale everywhere, or sert post-paid on receipt of price. 

F. TENNYSON NEELY, Publisher, 

06 Queen Street, London. 114 Fifth Avenue, New York. 


Lunar Caustic. 

) By CHARLES H- ROBINSON* 

Neely's Popular Library, Paper, 25c* 

If ever a book was well named this one 
certainly deserves commendation in that line, 
for the humor and satire within its covers are as 
cutting as the strongest caustic ever applied to 
the human skin. Sparkling epigrammatic wit 
is a rare quality in these latter days, and Mr. 
Robinson undoubtedly possesses this sterling 
gift to no mean degree. We commend the book 
as one well worthy of perusal and study, for 
much philosophy is contained in its burning 
satire. In fact there does not appear to be a dull 
line between the novers. The talented author 
has been successful as journalist, lawyer and 
dramatist, and bids fair to carve his name among 
the leading satirists of the day. It is not a book 
to be read from cover to cover at one sitting; 
but like highly spiced food or the condiments 
themselves, a small amount taken at a time will 
be highly relished. Few persons can dip into 
these pages without being deeply impressed with 
the wide range of subjects treated by the author, 
and the masterly, convincing manner in which 
he carries out his self-allotted task. 


For sale everywhere, or sent post-paid on receipt of price. 

F. TENNYSON NEELY, Publisher, 

96 Queen Street, London. 114 Fifth Avenue, New Vorlc. 


NEELY’S TOURIST LIBRARY, 

Paper, Twenty-five Cents, 

Na 

1. The White Company. By A. Conan Dovle, 

2. The Deemster. By Hall Caine. 

3. A Romance of Two Worlds. By Marie Corelli, 

?4. Treasure Island. By Robert L. Si evenson, 

5. The Sign of the Four. By A. Conan Doyle, 

6. Kidnapped. By Robert L. Stevenson. 

7. The Bondman. By Hall Caine. 

8. Michael Clarke. By A. Conan Doyle. 

9. Sport Royal. By Anthony Hope. 

10. The Man in Black. By Stanley J. Weyman, 

11. Uncle Tom's < abin. By Mrs. Stowe. 

12. Beyond the City. By A. Conan Doyle. 

18. Webster’s Pronouncing Dictionary. 

14. Cosmopolis. By Paul Bourget. 

15. People’s Reference Book. 

16. Around the World in Eighty Days. By Jules Vera®, 

17. In Darkest England. By General Booth. 

18. Ships That Pa*s in the Night. By Beatrice HarradeiL 

19. Nance, a Kentucky Belle. By Miss Greene. 

20. Mark Twain, His Lfe and Work. By Will M. Clemen 

21. Tom Brown’s School Days. By Thomas Hughes. 

22. A Holiday in Bed. By J. M. Barrie. 

23 By R ght, Not Law. By R. H. Sherard. 

24. The Child of the Bail. By De Alarcon. 

25. Health and Beauty. By Emily S. Bouton, 

20. Lydia. By S’dney Christian. 

27. Rose and Ninette. By Alphonse Daudet. 

28. A Tale of Two Cities. By Charles Dickens. 

29. The Last of the Van Slacks. By Edward S. Van Ziie, 

80. Love Letters of a Worldly Woman. By Mrs. W. K. CliffeS'Sl 

81. Claudea’s Island. By Esme Stuart. 

33. At Love’s Extremes. By Thompson. 

33. The Minister’s Weak Point. By Maclure. 

34. Raohel Dene. By Robert Buchanan. 

35. Social Etiquette. By Emily S. Bouton. 

86, The House of the Seven Gables. By Nathaniel Hawthorne, 

87. At Market Value. By Grant Allen. 

38. Her Victim. By an Indian Exile. 

89. When a Man’s Single. By J. M. Barrie, 

40. A Daughter of India. By An Indian Exile. i 

41. Dream Life. By Ik. Marvel. 

42. Reveries of a Bachelor. By Ik. Marvel. 

43. Christopher Columbus. By Franc B. Wilkie. 

44. Dodo. By E. F. Benson. 


For sou everywhere or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the publish 

F. TENNYSON NEELY, 

96 QUEEN STREET 114 FIFTH AVEmwl 

LONDON NEW VOS&, 


PAOLA CORLETII, 

THE FAIR ITALIAN. 


By ALICE HOWARD HILTON, 

Author of “ A Blonde Creole.” 

Neely’s Popular Library, paper 25c. 

This is a charming romance of life in Italy 
and New Orleans — of a pretty Italian maid, 
daughter of a Neapolitan nobleman, who elopes 
with the lover of her choice, a poor musician, 
and being hounded by the emissaries of a disap- 
pointed suitor, in conjunction with her angry 
father^ they start for America, settling in the 
famous French Quarter of New Orleans. 

The story is sweet and pure, and full of ex- 
ceeding pathos — the descriptive bits of old New 
Orleans, with its Jackson Square and St. Louis 
Cathedral, opposite, are clever pictures of the 
Creole City of the past. Since Cable has ceased 
his admirable novels of these interesting people, 
the public will undoubtedly welcome an addition 
to Creole literature from the pen of one so 
thoroughly conversant with the subject as Mr*. 
Hilton. 


For sale everywhere, or sent post-paid on receipt of price. 

F. TENNYSON NEELY, Publisher, 

•6 Queen Street, London. 114 Fifth Avenue. New Vorlt 


Remarks by Bill Nye. 



THE 

FUNNIEST 

OF 

BOOKS. 

“It will cure the bluea. 
quicker than the doctor and 
at half the price.” — Neve 
York Herald . 


Over 500 Pages. 
Fully Illustrated. 

Cloth, $1.50 ; Paper, 500, 


LAUGH AND GROW FAT. 

A collection of the best writings of this great author, most 
profusely illustrated, with over 500 pages. It is the funniest of 
books. Bill Nye needs no introduction. The mention of th® 
book is enough. 

“ I have passed through an earthquake and an Indian out- 
break, but I would rather ride an earthquake without saddle 01 
bridle, than to bestride a successful broncho eruption .” — Bill Nye . 

k :t Age brings caution and a lot of shop- worn experience, 
rchased at the highest market price. Time brings vain re« 
grets and wisdom teeth that can be left in a glass of water over 
C ight ” — Bill Nye. 

SPARKS PROM THE PEN OF BILL NYE. 193 PAGES. PAPER, 25 ®, 
WIT AND HUMOR. BY NYE AND RILEY. PAPER, 25 n 


For sale everywhere, or sent post-paid on receipt of prieo. 

F. TENNYSON NEELY, Publisher, 
p 6 Queen Street* London. __ 1 14 Fifth Avenue, Hew York 



Reely’s imperial library. 

POPULAR AUTHORS, 
best TITLES, FINEST BOOKS 
Illuminated Paper Covers and many Illustrations. 
Entered as Second-Class Matter* 


PRICE, 25 CENTS. 


The Charlatan. Robert Buchanan and Henry Murray. 
Burkett’s Lock. M. G. McClelland. 

The Land of Promise. (Illustrated.) Paul Bourget. 
Hypnotism. (Illustrated.) Jules Cl aretie. 

Facing the Flag. Jules Verne. 

The Fallen Race. (Illustrated.) Austyn Granville. 
The Disappearance of Mr. Derwent. Thomas Cobb. 
Sacrificed Love. (Illustrated.) Alphonse Daudet. 

The One Too Many. Mrs. E. Lynn Lynton. 

The New Man at Rossmere. Mrs. J. H. Walworth. 
At Market Value. Grant Allen. 

A Daughter of the King. Allen. 

A Monk of Cruta. (Illustrated.) E. Phillips Oppen- 
heim. 

The Gates of Dawn. Fergus Hume. 

In Strange Company. (Illustrated.) Guy Boothby. 
How V/omen Love. Max Nordau. 

The Comedy of Sentiment. Max Nordau. 

HEW TITLES WILL BE ADDED RAPIDLY. 


For sale everywhere, or s^nt postpaid on receipt of price. 

F. TENNYSON NEELY, Publisher, 

96 Queen St., London. 1 14 Fifth Ave», New York. 




One of Earth's Daughters. 

By ELLEN ROBERTS. 

Neely’s Popular Library. 

Paper, 25c. 

There have been books which secured a 
tremendous sale through the bitter attack of 
newspaper critics; while others succeeded 
through the host of favorable comments that 
greeted their appearance in the arena of public 
estimation. Faint praise accomplishes nothing 
— indeed, it is never deserved. The verdict 
of these experienced critics has been unusually 
favorable toward “One of Earth’s Daughters,” 
and we feel justified in offering it to our 
patrons as a story well worth reading, which 
cannot be said of all the novels launched upon 
the public these days by enterprising publishers. 
It is a genuine pleasure to come across a book 
so carefully and conscientiously written, and in 
which the characters fulfil their destinies. A 
vein of love drifting through the whole fabric 
leavens it without any erotic tendencies. Taken 
in all, “ One of Earth’s Daughters” is a very read* 
able little volume, and shows commendable dis* 
cernment on the part of the publisher. The 
world is always better for such moral books. 


For sale everywhere, or sent post-paid on receipt of p ice, 

F. TENNYSON NEELY, Publisher, 

96 Queen Street, London. 114 Fifth Avenue, New York* 


Kerchiefs to Hunt Souls* 

By M. AMELIA FYTCHE. 

Neely’s Popular Library. 

Paper, 25c. 

t 

Of late years writers have found it necessary 
to attract the eye of the passing public toward 
their work by giving it some striking title. Un* 
fortunately in many instances these remarkable 
names serve only that purpose, and have little or 
no application for the story. This can hardly 
be said of Miss Fytche’s new Dook, “ Kerchiefs 
to Hunt Souls.” If for no other reason, this 
book should certainly arouse considerable curi- 
osity on account of the remarkable title, which 
the author has, she confesses, dug out of the Bible, 
in order to stamp the peculiar features of her 
story. It is a book well worth reading, and one 
we cordially recommend to all who enjoy a good 
story when based upon those great morals that 
govern the world. There is a promise of even 
better things to come from this talented writer, 
* Kerchiefs to Hunt Souls ” has aroused con- 
siderable newspaper controversy from Maine to 
California, which fact is in itself enough to stamp 
the book one of more than ordinary ability, since 
space is too valuable to be wasted on trash io 
the estimation of the modern editor. 

For sale everywhere, or sent post-paid on receipt of prices 

F. TENNYSON NEELY, Publisher, 

9* Queen Street, Loudon. 114 Fifth Avenue. New Ywt» 


LATE WORKS OF 


OPIE READ, 

Author of 

“A Kentucky Colonel/* 

Probably no American writer of to-day excels Upie 
Read in the delineation of strange characters. He loves 
to dwell upon Southern scenes, before and after the war, 
and so vividly are these quaint pictures drawn that the 
reader seems to see the characters of his story as plainly 
as though the skill of an artist had painted their por- 
traits. “ Odd Folks ” will please all travelers who enjoy 
a good story, well told, and should meet with as heavy « 
sale as “The Captain’s Romance” has enjoyed. It k 
peculiarly fresh and sparkling, and a sure cure for lone- 
liness or the blues. The remarkably clever pen-drawn 
characters wid live through many editions as true type# 1 
af American life. 

1 

ODD FOLKS. Cloth, $1.00; paper, 25c. \ 

THE CAPTAIN’S ROMANCE. Cloth, $1.00; paper, 25a 


Por *ale everywhere, or sent post-paid on receipt of price. 

F. TENNYSON NEELY, Publisher, 

96 Queen Street, London. 114 Fifth Avenue, New York' 


A Fascinating Sinner.) 

By “DELTA” 

Neely f s Popular Library— Paper, 25c. 

This is certainly one of the brightest and 
*nost sparkling travesties ever written upon 
modern “ society” in England. There is not a 
dull line in it, and the author has handled the 
various characters with rare skill, giving us such 
strong delineations that we have no difficulty in 
recognizing counterfeit resemblances of people 
to be met with in other walks of life besides the 
“four hundred.” It is the story of a luxurious 
and high-spirited young woman, who, married to 
an English nobleman, gives the worthy man 
serious cause for anxiety. Iler luxurious tastes, 
her greedy desire to make the most of life, and 
the colloquial animation of the narrative give an 
agreeable raciness to this bright and cheery book 
that is full of constant sparkle and brightness. 
It will not require more than ordinary penetra- 
tion to discover that the author paints her char- 
acters and introduces colloquial arguments with 
a distinct and commendable purpose in view. 
The moral of the book is so manifest that it can 
(hardly fail of its purpose with the general reader. 
It is evidently no amateur hand that guides these 
various characters to their destiny, but one long 

E racticed in the art of catering to the great put> 
c of omnivorous readers. 


For sale everywhere, cr sent post-paid on receipt of price. 

F. TENNYSON NEELY, Publisher, 

QO Queen Street, London. 114 Fifth Avenue, New York. 


FOUR BOOKS BY CHEIRO 



A Complete Practical Work on the Sciences of Cheirognomy and Cheiromancy* 
Containing the System, Rules and Experience of 

CHEIRO 

COUNT DE HAMONG 

Fifty-five Full-page Illustrations and over Two Hundred Engravings 
of Lines, Mounts and Marks. 

Drawings of the Seven Types by THEO. DORE 

Full-page reproductions of famous hands, ?lso Normal and Abnormal hands 

taken from life. 

Eighth Edition, enlarged, $2.50. 

Cheiro's Poems 

A Beautiful Volume showing the Versatility of the Author and his Wonderful 
Acquaintance with Human Nature. Abounds in Passion, Emotion, 
Regretfulness, and all Expressed in Language that 
carries one along interestingly. 

Cloth, gilt top, 50 cents. 

ANOTHER BOOK ON THE HAND BY CHEIRO 

Cheiro's Guide to the Hand 

Vhe best Work on Palmistry at a low price. Fully illustrated and written witb 
Cheiro’s usual clear svyle. 

Cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 50 cents. 

The Hand of Fate 

A Novel 

By CHEIRO 

A Strange Psychological Story Chiefly Dealing with Hereditary Laws and 

Parental Influences. 

Cloth, $i.oo ; paper, 5oc. 

For sale everywhere , or sent postpaid on receipt of price , by the publisher , 

F. TENNYSON NEELY 

96 QUEEN STREET 114 FIFTH AVENUE 

LONDON NEW YORK 


Thomas B. Connery’s Novels. 

From many flattering press notices those 
given below will indicate the favor with which 
Mr. Connery’s writings are received by the 
public : 

i “ All the Dog’s Fault is a capital book to pass away an hour 
or two, full of incident, love, and humor. The author has long 
been known as a substantial figure in New York banking circles, 
and occupied a prominent position in politics during the Garfield* 
Arthur dynasty, his name being mixed with the Conkling im 
broglio at the time the Empire State senators withdrew so dra* 
matically from the United States Senate. Mr. Connery has given 
us a delightful romance, which will be read with pleasure by all 
those who desire to be entertained without the necessity of hav- 
ing some musty logic generated for the reformation of the world 
thrust down their unwilling throats. He writes to amuse- and 
certainly fulfils his mission to the Queen’s taste.” 

“ Black Friday : A Story of Love and Speculation, by 
Thos. B. Connery. When a man as prominent as Thos. B. Con- 
nery has shown himself in the financial world takes up the pen to 
write a romance of love and speculation under such a significant 
title as ‘ Black Friday,’ we have a right to expect something out 
of the beaten track. Nor does the book bring disappointment 
It is fresh and vigorous. The financier wields a trenchant pen. 
His pictures are excellent, and the love passages worthy of com- 
mendation. Some men excel in one field, but Mr. Connery bids 
fair to make a name for himself in literature as well as among 
the bulls and bears of Wall Street.” 

“That Noble Mexican, Mr. Connery’s latest book, even 
excels the preceding volumes in interest and must add to hia 
already enviable reputation.” 


Neely’s Popular Library. 

ALL THE DOG’S FAULT. Paper, 25 cents. 
BLACK FRIDAY. Paper, 25 cents. 

T H AT NOBLE MEXICAN. Paper, 25 cents. 

For sale everywhere, or sent post-paid on receipt of prLe* 

F. TENNYSON NEELY, Publisher, 

96 Queen Street, London. 114 Fifth Avenue, Ne* *0 fib 


Two Famous Authors. 


To lovers of military tales and stories of romantic adventure 
the world over the names of 

CAPT. CliAS. KING, U.S.A. 

AND 

ST. GEORGE RATHORNE, 

Author of “ Dr. Jack,” 

have indeed become household words. Their widely circulated 
novels may be found wherever the English language is spoken, 
and have served to while away the tedium of many a long rail- 
way journey or ocean voyage. The public seem to eagerly wel- 
come each new story from these travelers who have searched the 
strangest corners of the earth for new scenes and remarkable ex- 
ploits with which to entertain their legion of readers. Mr. F. 
Tennyson Neely has pleasure in announcing that the very latest 
and best productions of these wizard pens are now appearing in 
his attractive list of publications, and may be found on every 
book-stall here and abroad. 

THE LATEST BOOKS hy Capt. King. 

W \RRI0R GAP. Cloth, $1.25. 

FuRT FRAYNE. Cloth, $1.25 ; paper, 50c. 

AN ARMY WIFE. Fully Illustrated. Cloth, $1.25 ; paper, 50o. 

A GARRISON TANGLE. Cloth, $1.25 ; paper, 60c. 

TRUMPETER FRED. Dlustra ed. Gilt top, 50c. 

NOBLE BLOOD AND A WEST POINT PARALLEL. By Capt. King and 
Ernst Von Wildenbruch of the German Army. Gilt top, 50c. 


THE MOST RECENT NOVELS by St. George Rathborne. 

Author of “ Doctor Jack.” 

Uniform Editions, Cloth, $i.oo; paper, 50 c. 

SQUIRE JOHN. 

A SON OF MARS. 

A BAR SINISTER. 

A GODDESS OF AFRICA. 

MASKED IN MYSTERY. 

BER RESCUE FROM THE TURKS. 

Others in preparation for early issue. 


For sale everywhere, or sent post-paid on receipt of prlOflb 

P. TENNYSON NEELY, Publisher, 

#6 Queen Street, London. 114 Fifth Avenue. New York. 


Two Strange Adventures* 

By KINAKAN CORNWALLIS. 

Neely’s Popular Library. 

Paper, 25c* 

I This book is well calculated to please readers of adventut^ 
since there is not a dry chapter from cover to cover. In mam 
ways it is impossible enough for Jules Verne, and yet through 
the whole runs a delicate yet charming thread of love seldom to 
be found in the works of tha> French master of adventurous, 
fiction. Those who pick up the volume will hardly be satisfied 
until they reach the end. Mr. Cornwallis has written many 
charming stories in verse, the most popular being his “ Conquest 
of Mexico and Peru” and the patriotic “ Song of America and 
Columbus,” which latter fitly graced the period of our World’s 
Fair. “ Two Strange Adventures” met with such a hearty wel- 
come that the first edition was immediately exhausted. 



By MISS MUHLBACH, 

Translated by MARY J. SAFFORD. 

Cloth, gilt top, 50c. 

This is one of the most charming tales from the pen of the 
celebrated German novelist. It gives many side lights to the 
story of Napoleon in the height of his power, and would prove 
interesting even to those who have never admired the genius of 
the great Bonaparte. The translation by Miss Safford leaves 
nothing to be desired, since it could not be improved. For years 
she has stood in the leading rank of translators, with a charm of 
expression wholly her own. ‘ ‘ A Conspiracy of the Carbonari ** 
has proven very popular in this neat form so well adapted to the 
pocket and satchel, and eagerly sought after by the traveling 
public. 


For sale everywhere, or sent post-paid on receipt of price,. 

F. TENNYSON NEELY, Publisher, 

96 Queen Street, London. S14 Fifth Avenue, New York, 


Works by the popular young American 
writer. 

Edward S.Van Zile. 

Mr. Van Zile’s novels are a boon to thostN 
readers who delight in fresh fields, stirring scenes 
and crisp dialogue. He has already won a place 
among the leading American authors of the day. 
Newspaper criticism of this work has been 
almost unanimously favorable, and we have no 
hesitation in recommending his books to those 
in search of clean, yet stirring literature. Mr. 
Van Zile is also a versatile and pleasing poet, and 
his latest book, “The Dreamers,” is one of the 
most artistic volumes published this season. 
Mr. Van Zile’s poems cover a wide range of 
topics and bear the imprint of an assured literary 
touch. Their popularity has been established 
by the reception with which they have met upon 
their appearance in magazines and weeklies. 

THE DREAMEBS, and Other Poems. Cloth, $1.25. 

KINGS IN ADVERSITY. Neely’s Prismatic Library, gilt top, 50a. 

THE LAST OF THE VAN SLACKS Neely's Prismatic Library, Pape?, 


for sals everywhere, or sent post-paid on receipt of pricflt 

F. TENNYSON NEELY, Publisher, 

96 Queen Street, London 114 Fifth Avenue, New York, 


EVEN AS YOB AND I 

By 

BOLTON HALL. 

Author of ^^ho Pays Your Taxes?” “Equitable 

Taxation,” “Stories for Little Citizens,” Etc. 

Neely’s Prismatic Library, Cloth, Gilt Top, 5 o cents. 

HE circulation of this book will 
probably depend upon the number 
of men and women who are in 
search of a religion ; not of a new 
religion, but of the oldest religion, made ap- 
plicable and applied to personal, social and 
political life. Tho second part of the book is 
prefaced by a letter of Tolstoy’s to the author, 
endorsing his view of life. 

The allegories which form the first part show 
how in ordinary life, as Oliver Shreiner puts it, 
greatness is to take the common things of life and 
to walk truly among them; happiness is a great 
love and much serving; holiness is an infinite 
compassion for others. 

There is an introduction by Ernest Howard 
Crosby, which is a complete sketch in itself. 

For sale everywhere, or sent post-paid on receipt of pnot 

F. TENNYSON NEELY, Publisher, 

96 Queen Stree*. Ifniir ■ 14 Fifth Avenue, New York, 



Martha Washington Coot Boot 

A COMPENDIUM OF COOKERY 
AND. RELIABLE RECIPES. 

Stilly Illustrated. 315 Pa^e^ f 

i2mo. Oil Cloth Cover, - - - 50 Cts. 

Paper, (Neely’s Popular Library), 25 4# 

Over 1,000,000 copies of this popular and valuable book have been sold. A moat 
comprehensive work, giving all the minute details pertaining to its subject. 
Contains hints and suggestions from the best housewives of our land. An in- 
dispensable adjunct to every culinary department. 



999,999 


FACTS OF USE 
TO EVERYBODY. 


Paper Cover. Neely’s Popular Library, 25c. 

This is an invaluable book of ready reference, applicable to almost every pos. 
sible industrial and domestic requirement. It gives information enabling one to 
meet everyday emergencies intelligently and promptly. Compiled from the best 
medical and other authorities. So indexed that any required item can be in- 
stantly found. No other similar book in the market to compare with it for effi- 
ciency and value. 


For sale everywhere, or sent post-paid on receipt of price. 

F. TENNYSON NEELY, Publisher, 

06 Queen Street, London. 114 Fifth Avenue, New York- 


THE MALACHITE CROSS 


By FRANK H. NORTON. Paper, 25c. 

This book has received columns of reviews on account of 
wonderfully sensational character, and a few extracts may 
to indicate its general character. 

Y, Hcrp.M “ ‘The Malachite Cross,’ bv Frank H. Norton, published F 
Tennyson Neely, is an exceptionally entertaining- and well-written r#ok. Un 
like too many writers of the present day. the author has taken the trouble to 
construct a skilful and original plot, the result being that the reader's interest 
is sustained from beginning to end. A quaint and somewhat weird story it is, 
with many strong passages and a sufficiently dramatic finale. The characters 
portrayed are lifelike, and the incidents described are novel and picturesque 
Altogether ‘ The Malachite Cross ’ is a book which lovers of tiction will find 
it well wortli their while to read.” 

Elis t belli, Y. T . N vs “ When I took up the copy of ‘The Malachite Cross, 
by Frank 1L Norton, it recalled to my mind the many happy hours spent in 
the company of its accomplished and many-sided author, both in London and 
in New York. When 1 first made Frank Norton's acquaintance he was en- 
gaged on the London edition ol the New York Hera if, one of Jas. Gordon 
Bennett’s enterprises which did not succeed, though I could never quite see 
the reason why, except on general principles, for one could hardly expect to 
see an edition of the London Juries pay in New York! But to return to 
Frank Norton, who is a newspaper man to the tips of his fingers. He had 
lust come back from the Continent, where he had been on New York Her-uid 
business, and never did I meet an American as enthusiastic about his environ- 
ment over there, so appreciative of historical London, or so delighted with its 
artistic, literary, and intellectual life. But Norton is what many newspaper 
men are not ; he is a man of literary taste and culture. 1 was then deep in a 
ww f eighteenth century English literature, and many were the delightful 
talks ve had on the men of Goldsmith’s and Dr. Johnson's time, with whose 
works he was thoroughly familiar and at home. Later on when 1 visited Amer- 
ica, it was through him that 1 saw much of the newspaper side of New York, 
and met many men prominent in the newspaper world. Of late years he has 
devoted himself closely to the study of astrology, and has quite recently pub- 
lished in the magazines some important and startling articles on this fasci- 
nating subject. His own contributions to literature have not been insignifi- 
cant. What American schoolboy does not know his 1 Days of Daniel Boone,’ 
one of the best historical stories for boys we have? The present book is a 
romance of two countries, and the scene is laid in New York and Paris. It 
is a tala of magic, mystery, and necromancy, turning unon the potent forces 
hidden in an ancient heirloom in the form of a Malachite cross. It is dra- 
matic, and holds the reader with its powerful interest and exciting incident. 
Coming from so practised a pen it is needless to say it is well written.” 

) 

liiirghampton, N. I. “ ‘The Malachite Cross,’ by Frank H. Norton, published by 
Eteniiiy Herald F. Tennyson Neely, 114 Fifth Avenue, New York City : 50c, 
A story of Paris, France, and southwestern Europe of a half century or more 
ago, intrigue, plot and weird adventure are met with in every page, l'he au-f 
thor’s description of places, his delineation of character, weaving and un- 
raveling of plot and general vigorous treatment of the political and social 
questions of the forties renders this story interesting, although it is at times 
so intensely dramatic and sensational as to seem almost improbable. How- 
ever, none but a very discerning critic will raise this poii .t, and with the gen.' 
eral public we predict a good run for this book.” 


For sale everywhere, or sent post-paid on receipt of price 

F. TENNYSON NEELY, Publisher, 
r»6 Queen Street, London. 114 Filth A veuu<*» N&-»i Yon 





LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 







